Of Magic and Kings
by Jae's Stories
Summary: Sequel to 'Of Swords and Warlords'. They were home, back in Camelot, with their ordeal over. Or at least it should've been. Nightmares plague Merlin as he attempts to continue his life in Camelot, so familiar yet now completely different. Arthur and the knights are keeping his magic a secret, but for how long? Rated T for language and violence.
1. Of Nightmares and Ideas

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **I'm back! Sorry for taking so long to get this up and running again, I took a little break from writing for a while but now I'm ready to get going with our sequel! I hope you guys enjoy, this story is mostly going to be set in Camelot, and we're going to get more insights into some of the secondary characters.**

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 _Merlin runs._

 _Or at least he tries to, suddenly finding himself as immobile as a statue. The darkness is looming overhead, the sky filled with a thunderous wrath, as if Zeus throws lightning bolts in a godly rage. Rain begins to spit at the warlock, but he can't comprehend the tiny spatters of water hitting him, too overtaken with fear and hatred to feel anything else. He's standing in front of the man he despises most in this world, the name sour and repulsive in his mouth._

 _Drin._

 _'Ready to join me yet, boy?'_

 _The rotten words are spat from his foul mouth, the hint of a grin on his monstrous lips. He knows. He knows that Merlin shouldn't be able to handle much more. The pain, the tormenting words, slowly they're breaking the warlock's spirit, and the warlord knows it._

 _Merlin holds back yet another scream as yet another oozing red cut appears on his body, the pain agonising, but nothing compared to the words entering his ears._

 _'You'll never be normal.'_

 _'Freak.'_

 _'He'll never accept you.'_

 _'Sorcerer.'_

 _'He's going to kill you as soon as he finds out.'_

 _And as hard as he tries to block out the tainted words, they crawl under his skin, turning his mind against him, and soon the words are no longer Drin's, but Merlin's own thoughts._

 _It's killing Merlin. He's determined to be strong, to keep control, to protect Arthur, but what's the point? Why should he stay strong if there's no one left to protect?_

 _'No.' Merlin is so accustomed to the word by now, he's almost stopped hearing it. It leaves his lips subconsciously, the part of his brain not twisted by Drin's evil is fighting back, determined to remain true to who he is._

 _'Sorcerer.'_

 _The face torturing him suddenly is no longer Drin, but another face. A soft, blonde, familiar face._

 _'Arthur.' Merlin pleads, imploring the man he considered his best friend to let him go, to see he means no harm. He's never meant anyone harm._

 _'All this time. Magic. Sorcerer.' Arthur's face is full of an unfamiliar rage, so ugly on his features, and the voice is one teeming with hate and prejudice, so reminiscent of Uther._

 _More cuts. More harsh words. More pain._

 _He doesn't know how he's still alive. There's nowhere left to hurt, no more blood to be spilled, but he's still upright, alive, frozen solid and facing Arthur's fury._

 _'You win.' Merlin is numb. There's nothing left to say, no more protesting or pleading. Just acceptance. 'You win. End this.'_

 _Arthur raises his sword, ironically the same sword that Merlin prevented running his king through. The monarch stiffens, readying to strike and in one movement…_

Merlin awoke with a scream in his throat and sweat upon his brow. His eyes darted around the room, his mind still half in sleep and stuck in the nightmare, searching for his assailants. Though soon he realised that he was alone and back in his small cupboard room in Camelot, alive and no longer Drin's captive.

Not physically, anyway.

He sat on the edge of his bed, wincing and clutching at his stomach as his breathing began to return to normal, the more fragile wounds exacerbated by his sudden waking. He pulled the damp nightshirt from his torso, catching sight of his reflection in the window. His cuts were stitched and scabbed but healing, and the bruising had all but disappeared. He knew they'd scar, to what extent was not clear yet, but Gaius had told him wounds of that degree would always leave their mark.

Gaius tried to talk to him about the scars left elsewhere, scars that would burn deep in his mind, but Merlin wouldn't say a word about any injuries other than the ones on his body. He knew that there was nothing to be done for bad dreams except perhaps sleeping draughts, of which he was reluctant to partake. He was doing fine as he was, he didn't need to be drugged out of his mind just to sleep. Merlin was still able to function as much as his body and Gaius would permit him with what little sleep he could grab here and there, and for him, that was good enough. He would not speak of what happened to anyone, nor would he trouble them with his lack of sleep, which was his own problem to solve.

The navy sky outside indicated the presence of night, so he laid in bed awake, as had become customary since his return, until a glimpse of the sunrise appeared. He knew full well that sleep would not come again for him that morning. As soon as the first ray hit the top of the castle walls, Merlin rose, gentler than before, to get dressed.

His attire had been replaced but they weren't an identical match for the clothes he lost. It seemed silly, after everything, to miss his clothes, but they meant more to him than that. His clothes signified his life in Camelot, a time before Drin, and his nightmares, and the fact his secret was now known by five other people. Five very important people. He adjusted the outfit from his window reflection, a shirt of blue, two shades lighter than it should've been, and a brown jacket that fit slightly different to his last. He couldn't bear to replace his beloved neckerchief just yet.

The sound of Gaius moving around in the main room, making breakfast, reminded Merlin how hungry he was. He'd started to eat once more, but Gaius was still keeping strict tabs on what he ate, proclaiming he had to be gentle on his stomach.

"You're up remarkably early." Gaius raised an eyebrow as he appeared, up and fully dressed at least an hour before he would normally.

"I must have a lot of energy. Good, right?" Merlin grinned, taking an apple off the workbench and sitting down to eat it along with the broth that Gaius was making.

"Seems to be." The physician murmured, still not quite convinced.

He ladled a spoonful of weak broth into the bowl in front of Merlin, then did one for himself, sitting opposite his ward. A small smile crept over the old man's lips, savouring the moment as simple as eating breakfast with Merlin. He'd barely eaten when the boy had been reported missing along with the king, and when he had, it'd been standing at his workbench, the table feeling too empty.

"How are you feeling?" Gaius asked calmly, his eyes fixed on the food in front of him.

"I'm fine, Gaius. You fixed me, and I'm alright." Merlin sighed, giving his mentor a weak grin. The daily question met with a daily answer, a fake grin and a hurriedness to move on.

"Any improvements on…?"

"None." Merlin shook his head, reluctant to talk about it, but he knew Gaius wouldn't leave it alone. "If anything it's worse than before, you told me it'd get better." He pointed his spoon at Gaius, the physician thinking Merlin looked more defeatist than ever before.

"I did, but I said in time Merlin." Gaius encouraged. "It'll take longer than this, especially as you're not fully healed yet." He said pointedly.

Merlin's arm was no longer held in its sling, but he still had to restrict the movement in his shoulder, lest his stitches tear. There were still a few stitches to come out across his torso as well, and Merlin was still regaining his strength slowly. He'd been up and walking around a few days after having the dreaded conversation with everyone, and had barely sat down since, eager to resume what little he had left of his 'normal' life.

"So I was thinking…" Merlin began thoughtfully, mid spoonful, once there was a lull in the conversation.

"Never a good idea." Gaius smirked, raising a teasing eyebrow.

"I thought I might bring Arthur his breakfast up this morning, before George gets there." Merlin stirred the remains of his breakfast around in the bowl, the glanced up to gage Gaius' reaction.

"Merlin…" Gaius sighed, getting ready for an argument. It was too early for an argument.

"I know, I know. I'm to rest." Merlin groaned, holding up his hands. "But it's a just a tray."

"It's too much." Gaius shook his head. He was sure that Merlin could carry an empty tray, but a full one? Up all the way from the kitchens to Arthur's room? No way. It could damage his shoulder more, not to mention the exertion it would put on him.

"Ok," Merlin said slowly, and Gaius could almost see the cogs turning in Merlin's head, trying to figure out a solution, "what about if someone else carries the tray to his room, then I take it in?"

"Now you're just being silly. I'm sure Arthur can manage fine with George for a little while longer. You're not to work until I say you can." Gaius' tone was caring but firm. He wouldn't risk Merlin further injuring himself for something as trivial as taking the king his breakfast.

"But-" Merlin began, disappointment clouding the word.

"That's the end of it Merlin. Your stitches are coming out in a few days, but if you tear them then we'll have to re-stitch them and you'll be off work yet another fortnight." Merlin let out a resigned groan and dropped his head in his hands. "I've got plenty to keep you occupied. Here." Gaius handed him a large, worn leather book. "Take this book and memorise it." It had a peeling spine and 'The Comprehensive Guide to Medicinal Herbs' printed in faded letters on the cover. "That'll give you something to do. I shall quiz you over dinner."

If looks could kill, Gaius would never have seen another sunrise.

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 **Remember: every review, favourite and follow makes the author very happy.**


	2. Of Blows and Bangs

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **I'm sorry this is a week late; I was meant to be keeping on schedule with this one! Basically everything in the UK kind of imploded, then I had some other stuff come up and this got pushed to the back of the queue. But I do want to say thanks for the support guys, I'm glad you're enjoying the sequel. I'm hoping it'll be as suspenseful as the first.**

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Merlin finished his breakfast sluggishly, completely dejected. He hadn't been outside of Gaius' four walls since his return, and he was going stir crazy. He'd read almost every book lining the shelves, made an almighty mix of medicines whilst being supervised by Gaius, and seen his friends only a handful of times, often unable to get away from training, chores, or simply being the king.

That being said, they had made an effort whenever they could to come see him. Gwen brought small offerings from the kitchens, then checked his temperature and stitches every five minutes to make sure he was _really_ as okay as he said he was. Gwaine brought offerings too, of a more inebriating nature, until Gaius had caught him out one day and forbid him from visiting Merlin if he brought him any more mead, not that Merlin had been up to drinking it. Elyan and Percival came bearing tales of their latest hunt; how cold it had been, how much stuff there was to carry, how they'd caught a number of fluffy woodland animals, seemingly determined to make him not miss the trips.

Arthur was around a lot more than Merlin imagined he had time for, he knew the duties of being a king almost inside out, and was annoyed with him for shirking some responsibilities to come visit him, even if it did cheer him up no end. He'd moan about the new servant's lack of humour, how he never quite got the temperature of a bath right and how he barely spoke; which the warlock took to mean he wasn't quite as bad a manservant as Arthur would have people believe. Leon had visited too, albeit a lot less than the others, but Merlin had put that down to being busy trying to reorganise the kingdom since their absence.

"But what if I-"

Merlin had no time to continue his ridiculous theory (which now involved him taking an empty tray and telling Arthur he'd simply forgotten his breakfast), as there was a knock at the door. He made to move, but Gaius waved him off, motioning for him to stay seated. The old man headed towards the door, Merlin craning his neck slightly to see who was there.

"Gwaine!" Gaius greeted the knight, his tone one of surprise. He'd never seen him up so early, without an occasion to rise at dawn.

"Good morning Gaius, Merlin around? I swear, I have no mead." He held his hands up, demonstrating the fact that he did not have a tankard nor a flask on him. "It's too early to drink even for me."

"Quite." Gaius nodded, not completely believing the knight. He imagined Gwaine had no problem drinking at any time of the day. "Merlin's in there. Seems to be a lot of energy going round this morning." He couldn't understand it. He'd known Gwaine for quite a while, and one thing that was apparent was that he did not rise early. Shaking his head in befuddlement, he let Gwaine into the quarters, then collected the daily doses of medications. "I've got to go, you make sure that that one doesn't do anything strenuous, got it?" The famous eyebrow was raised, daring Gwaine to challenge.

"Absolutely, don't worry about that." Gwaine smiled at Merlin, who simply scowled back at him. He took Gaius' seat at the table opposite the warlock who was sat looking dismal, head in his hands. "Alright, mate?"

"I'm fine." Merlin grumbled, his voice muffled from his hands. "What are you doing here?"

"What?" Gwaine mocked hurt. "Can't a friend just visit another 'almost-nearly-dead-a-few-weeks-ago' friend?"

"They can, but not usually this early in the morning." He narrowed his eyes sceptically.

"How are you doing? Really?" Gwaine tried to meet Merlin's gaze, however it was anywhere but at the knight. Gwaine also noted that the purple bags under Merlin's eyes were darker than they had been the last time he'd been here. He didn't quite look as dead as when he was… _dead_ , but he wasn't too far off.

"I just need to get back to work, but Gaius won't let me. Sitting in here all day's driving me crazy." He stood and took the bowls away, placing them on the workbench.

"He still won't let you go back?" Gwaine knew full well that Gaius wasn't letting Merlin back to work, they all did, and as much as he hated to admit it, the physician was right.

Even carrying two lightweight empty bowls across a small room had Merlin grimacing and tensing his shoulder. Gwaine worried Merlin wouldn't ever get his shoulder back to full use, that it would be something that always griped him, but Gaius had reassured him that he could make a full recovery once he'd cut out the stitches. But they also had to consider the possibility that the bastard (Gwaine refused to humanise him with a name) had done irreparable damage to the muscle, and it'd be a strain for him to use it in the future. It still didn't make the task of keeping Merlin housebound any easier though.

"Like I'm telling _everyone_ ," he emphasised, "I just need things to get back to normal." He sat on the edge of the bed, and rubbed tenderly at his damaged shoulder. "Don't worry, it's just a twinge. _I'm fine._ "

"For someone who's really fine, you do seem to be saying it a lot, almost as if you're wishing it to come true." Merlin simply glared, which Gwaine chose to ignore. "And you know Gaius will have reason for keeping you here a few more days. He is the expert."

"I'm not so sure." Merlin grumbled. "I think he's worried about me. That if he lets me out of his sight I'll run straight into danger again and this time I won't come back."

"Merlin, you know what Gaius thinks about you. After what happened to you, of course he's going to be worried. He lost you, had no idea where you were, and when you came back, you were nearly dead. Not to mention Arthur knows the thing he's not supposed to know. I'd say he's entitled to a bit of worry."

"Well now you're just making me feel guilty for complaining." He protested.

"It's what I do." Gwaine laughed, before rising, and crossed the room to stand opposite to Merlin, leaning on a shelf of books to do so.

The shelf that had housed the monstrous book Gaius expected Merlin to read had always been temperamental; the occasional creak or slight lean that made the book holders slip off the end, but for the most part it had been pretty sturdy. That was until Gwaine leaned on it. Why he thought a fragile shelf was the best this to support the weight of a knight who consumed twice that in mead was anyone's guess. So Gwaine slipping to the floor with a load of ancient books toppling on top of him was not unexpected. What was unexpected was what had happened in between Gwaine falling and the books landing on top of him.

It was instinctual to catch the falling items; Merlin didn't even have to think about it. For a second, time had slowed down, the books and part of the splintered shelf were suspended in the air, not dissimilar to Gaius the minute Merlin had stepped foot in his quarters all those years ago. The difference was that Gaius had remained suspended until he could move a bed underneath the falling physician, effectually saving his life. Whereas the books and shelf had a different plan, seemingly losing their spell and crashing down on top of the dazed knight.

"Ouch! You need to get yourself a proper carpenter, those shelves are a bloody death-trap!" Gwaine rubbed the back of his head, thankful there wasn't the contents of one of Gaius' jars dripping down his face. "Are you okay Merlin? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I- I'm-" Merlin had gone as white as a sheet. "Yeah, just thought you'd hurt yourself is all." He covered quickly, offering Gwaine a hand with his good arm. He gingerly accepted it, then picked up the bits of what appeared to be rotten wood and old books off the floor.

"Of course I'm okay, they're just books." Gwaine frowned. Merlin seemed to be a lot more skittish than usual, almost as if he'd been scared by something other than books falling atop Gwaine's head.

"I wonder how long that's been like that." Merlin examined the damp spot where the shelf had been, eager to change the subject. "Must've been a leak or something. I've no idea how old this wood is."

"Probably older than Gaius." Gwaine noted the amount of dust settled onto the wood. "I'm going to have to go soon, the bell-" As if on cue the signal calling the knights to training rang throughout the room. "I'm sorry, that's the-"

"Training bell, I heard. Go, you're going to be late." Merlin tried to shoo Gwaine out of the room.

"I can stay a little longer if you want, it's not important training anyway." As much as he'd tried not to show it, Gwaine's face was one of pity. Things weren't the same knowing they were all out there, training and going on hunts, whilst Merlin was stuck up in Gaius' rooms, unable to even carry a tray across the castle.

"It's fine." Merlin's face dropped. The last person, aside from Gaius, who'd not looked at him like an injured lamb was now pitying him. He didn't need it, he just needed to get back to normal. If everything was normal again, everything would be alright again. "I'm fine." He waved off.

"If you're sure…" Gwaine started, but Merlin was already hurrying him out of the room.

Once Gwaine had left, Merlin stood by the window, watching the knights and Arthur chatting as squires and servants set up targets and dummies. How he missed the simplest things he'd disliked before, and how he wished he could be down there with them. He couldn't bear to sleep or read anymore. He needed to do _something_. He sat back at the table with a groan, and opened page one of the book Gaius had left him.

' _Amongst the many remedies that mother nature provides, we must also learn about the nefarious plants that would sooner kill a man than cure him. Throughout the next 200 pages…'_

A swift knock at the door broke Merlin out of the spell of boredom he was entering into. He opened the door and there stood one of the councilmen, an older but friendly fellow who lived fairly close to them.

"Ah Merlin, is Gaius in?" Lord Teft peered around the room, tapping his foot impatiently.

"No, I'm sorry, you just missed him. He's on his rounds." Lord Teft rubbed at his eyes, then glanced backwards into the corridor. "Is there something the matter, Lord Teft?"

"It's my wife," He began with a sigh, "she's cut herself whilst peeling an apple. I don't know how, but I feel she needs it dressing, if not stitching." The man rolled his eyes. Merlin knew Lady Teft, as well as how clumsy she was, and Gaius suspected she was beginning to lose her mind slowly. He'd asked Merlin, before his disappearance, if he'd keep an eye on her, and to help out in case of emergencies.

"I can do it, if you don't mind?" He suddenly felt a rush of purpose run through him, turning to fill a small bag with cloth bandages, as well as thread and a needle. He paused over the items as flashbacks of Redferran and Gaius' quarters washed over him, but he swallowed down his panic and turned back to Lord Teft.

"Not at all Merlin," he said with a warm, but anxious smile, "come with me, she's just in our quarters." He led Merlin out into the corridor. "I haven't seen you around much lately, not since you got back with King Arthur, terrible business all of that…"

Lord Teft didn't know the half of it.

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 **Hopefully the next chapter will be up on Thursday, I'm determined to keep a schedule this time.**


	3. Of Tension and Torment

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Hey everyone! Sorry about the delay (if I had a quid for every time I've said that…)**

 **I can confirm I have a rough plan of all the chapters; this will be a 24-chapter story like the last, so hopefully the story will be smoother than the last. I hope to update at least a few chapters this week having been away for a while, so I hope you enjoy.**

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"Have you gone mad?!" Gaius was pacing up and down in front of a rather startled Merlin, who's hands were still slightly shaking. He was paler than when Gwaine had left him for training not half an hour ago. "What were you thinking Merlin? Really?" Merlin detested the look of disappointment on Gaius' features. It didn't happen often, but when it did, he hated having let down his one true confidant.

He couldn't understand why Gaius was making such a big deal about what had happened. It was nothing really, it had just got blown way out of proportion, and now he was being chastised like a child.

"You _told_ me to look after Lady Teft," Merlin exclaimed, "you said I should keep an eye on her in case she hurts herself! We knew she'd probably end up having an accident with a mind like hers." Again, he wasn't sure what the problem was. It could've happened to anyone; it wasn't his fault.

"Yes, I know." Gaius sighed heavily. "But that was before-"

"Before I was an invalid?" Merlin glared at Gaius. He didn't need coddling. "Before I wasn't allowed to do anything myself?" He needed normality. Why could no one understand that?

"Merlin…" Gaius turned his back on the warlock, taking a deep breath and trying to quell his impatience. Why could he not understand the importance of looking after himself? He put everyone before himself, and sometimes someone needed to make sure that he was okay, that he was taking time for himself.

"No, I need stuff to do, you don't _understand_." Merlin yelled, standing abruptly, then winced, holding back a groan of pain in his throat, not wanting to give Gaius the satisfaction of an 'I told you so'.

"Then talk to me." The physician turned back to his ward. "Because don't think it's escaped my attention how much worse you look. The wounds seem to be the only bit of you that's healing, and you won't talk to me. You've always talked to me."

"That's because there's nothing to talk about. I'm-" He was cut off abruptly.

"If the next word out of your mouth is 'fine' I swear to..." Gaius pointed a bony finger at him. "You know I can help you Merlin, you just need to tell me what's wrong." It was so frustrating, he could clearly see that his ward needed to do something about what was bothering him, but without telling him, there was nothing he could do to help, except keep a close watch on him.

"There's nothing you can do; I just want to forget everything happened. I want to go back to living my life, and I don't need draughts and potions and talking to fix that. I need to be out there, doing menial jobs for Arthur and protecting him when he's not looking." Merlin sat in a sulk, flexing his hands slowly to trying and stop the jittering. "I need to help."

"You did today, and look what happened!" Gaius hated to point out the obvious, but here he felt it was a necessity. Merlin wasn't safe when he was so jumpy, and the last thing he wanted was for Merlin to be, or even feel, unsafe ever again. As a physician, he was averse to most forms of taking life, often finding there wasn't sufficient excuse for killing someone. For Drin though, if he ever laid eyes on that snake, he'd make an exception.

"She grabbed my shoulder!" Merlin threw his head in his hands, tired of explaining himself away. "She was confused, she got panicky when I tried to steady her arm, and she happened to grab my bad shoulder. It was just a reaction."

"Really?" Gaius raised his brow. "And you going catatonic, that was a reaction too? Lord Teft told me everything. Heck, he was the one to fetch me, informing me that he had a bleeding wife and an unresponsive servant in his quarters. Do you even remember what happened?" He'd had a wave of nausea and worry sweep over him the minute he saw his ward, hunched up in the corner of the room with almost dead eyes. It still hadn't quite left him.

"No…" Merlin sighed, as quiet as a mouse. He'd blacked out, one moment trying to dress Lady Teft's cut on her arm, glad that it wasn't too deep to need stitches as he wasn't certain his hands wouldn't twitch suddenly and injure her further. The next he was on the floor of their quarters, Gaius waving some foul smelling salts under his nose to wake him from a stupor.

"According to Lord Teft, who saw the whole thing, his wife was being rather difficult, as she is wont to do as of late, and as you were trying to bandage her arm, she panicked and grabbed you. At which point you jumped backwards, shouted 'no' a couple of times and then went silent. Lord Teft tried to help you, but you were so far gone he went to fetch me from my rounds." Gaius slumped back in his chair, already exhausted and it wasn't even lunchtime. Why could they not have one day, one normal day when everything was fine for just five minutes?

"That… that all happened?" Merlin didn't know what to say. It sounded like when he had nightmares, when he'd dream of Drin and his viscous knife, only this was the first time anything had happened during the day to that extent. Sure, he'd had the odd flashback, or chill, when he saw an item that reminded him of his time in that tower, but he usually managed to push it to the back of his mind and carry on.

"Yes Merlin. It did. I don't know what's going on with you, but whatever it is, it's not good." Once again, pointing out the obvious.

"It wasn't my fault, tell me how it was my fault." He sounded like an exasperated child when he got like this.

"Because I ordered you, as your physician and as your guardian, to rest, and you didn't. Because I know what's best for you medically and emotionally. And I'll be damned if I let what that monster did to you affect the rest of your life. I want you to get better Merlin. I want you to be able to go on patrol and join in training, and to do that, your shoulder has to be fixed. I'm not trying to be wicked, or overprotective, I just want you to live without a constant reminder of what he did to you. Now really is the time to tell me." He had a feeling he was going to have to continue to push him to accept help. So far it'd been like speaking to a brick wall, who offered him nothing but the occasional 'I'm fine' or 'it's nothing to worry about'.

Merlin's stomach twisted into a knot. He really, really didn't want to lie to Gaius, he'd saved him so many times, and more so this time, nursing him back to health. But he really didn't want a fuss made or for people to be worrying over him.

"I don't know what to tell you," He lied through his teeth, "it happens." He tried to play it off with a nonchalant shrug.

" _It happens?_ " Gaius was starting to get angry now, upset that Merlin would play down something that was as serious as entering a stupor. "I've never known you to regress into yourself like that. Never." He urged. "Why won't you talk to me?" Gaius' frustrations were breaking through his calm demeanour, as much as he tried to suppress them and not interfere, sometimes Merlin needed someone to interfere.

"Because if I talk about it, it makes it real!" The warlock balled his hands into fists, using all his willpower not to land a blow on the wall. He wasn't sure if the shaking was still from his episode, or his annoyance at Gaius' pestering. "I don't want it to become a problem. I want my life back; I don't want _him_ controlling it." Merlin was close to breaking point, tears welling in his eyes that he refused to shed. "He's dead and he's still torturing me."

"Oh my boy." Gaius stood next to Merlin to comfort him, unsure of what to say. He'd known knights to get like this sometimes, after battles or other traumas, and very few ever fully recovered. But Merlin was strong, more than anyone ever gave him credit for, and if anyone could overcome something like this, it would be him. "I wish there was something I could say that'll take away your pain, I'm sorry I didn't realise sooner that you felt this way, I should've known." The old man sighed.

"Don't." Merlin looked him in straight in the eye, more than he had done since he returned to Camelot. "Whatever you do, don't apologise for what he did to me. You, and Gwaine, and Arthur, and Gwen and everybody else, you're the ones holding me together, and I can't thank each of you enough for that."

Gaius thought for a moment, then let out a reluctant sigh.

"Do you feel well enough to go back to work," he held up a hand to silence Merlin's immediate answer, "with restricted duties, that I _will_ be informing Arthur of?"

"Yes, Gaius." Merlin nodded eagerly. "I would really, really like that."

"Alright then, I'll talk to Arthur this evening and let him know what you can and can't do. I'm talking about two or three jobs a day to begin with, got it?" Gaius gave him a hard stare, and his face betrayed his reluctance to offer such a thing to his still-healing ward. But Merlin did have a point, if spending all day cooped up in his quarters was doing him more harm than good, maybe he should go back to work.

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 **Thank you to all the lovely messages you guys have been sending me – especially the guest reviewer J.H.W; I'd love to write you a full response, but for now I'll just say thank you so much!**


	4. Of Panic and Assurance

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

… **Extra long explanation as to where I've been at the end of the chapter.**

 _ ***This chapter deals with panic attacks***_

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For the past two weeks, Merlin had slowly been returning to 'light duties', which had been frustrating at best. Although it was better than sitting around moping in the physician's quarters, he was still frustrated with his lack of progress. Fetching and carrying was heavily restricted, as was intense duties such as polishing. He wasn't allowed to even think about going near training.

"Merlin," Arthur smiled when he entered the room, glad to see his manservant up and about at least. He'd been concerned when Gaius had come to him to speak about his ward, and how much he wished to return to service. Arthur couldn't quite believe it, Merlin – the constant complainer about his lack of days off – had asked to return to work? Hid enquired as to his wellbeing, if he was up to fulfilling all his duties after such a short time spent recuperating from something which very nearly put him in the ground. Gaius had simply pursed his lips and uttered that he was signing him off for small tasks, that anything even slightly exerting would rip his stiches and set his recovery back weeks. "I've not seen you all day."

Arthur was trying, he really was. Every time he looked at Merlin a cocktail of emotions burned throughout him, the most obvious being worry. During his return, Merlin had barely spoken to Arthur. It wasn't through a lack of effort on Arthur's part though, he'd been gently encouraging Merlin to speak to him about their ordeal. However, he'd let it be when it became quite clear Merlin didn't want to, replying only with 'leave it alone Arthur'. Clearly the moment they'd shared in Gaius' quarters had been nothing more than extraordinary relief, the two of them simply grateful to be alive. But now, Arthur was beginning to worry he'd never truly have Merlin back, that their friendship would forever be tainted by Drin's evil deeds and malicious acts.

"Been busy." Came the reply. His succinct responses worried Arthur even more, Merlin had never been one to shut up, never one to shy away from conversation or the occasional insult banded about. He was practically not there anymore, the lightness, the laughter that made him Arthur's best friend seemed to have fizzled out the moment they'd returned home and reality had caught up with them. "I've got… things." He mumbled nodding towards the door, barely taking account of Arthur as he left the room.

Had it been anyone else, Arthur would've demanded they return, and address him properly, and at least look him in the eye. However, he just watched Merlin leave, not wanting to hold him up any longer than he had already. His heart was heavy with guilt, unable to shake the feeling that this would be their lot forever, and in all honesty, he couldn't blame him. If the roles were reversed, he didn't know if he'd ever forgive him for the action he took in that tower.

As Merlin walked out of Arthur's room he scrunched his face in anger, not at the king, but at himself. Why couldn't he stop doing that, treating Arthur like everything was his fault? He knew he felt no anger or resentment towards Arthur, in fact he'd more than proved that he'd managed to push aside his prejudices in favour of their friendship. But every time they'd tried to be 'normal' with one another, every fibre of Merlin's being was screaming that this was wrong, that it shouldn't be happening and he should stay well away from everything.

From his arrival in Camelot, Merlin had dreamed of a time when Arthur knew about his magic, when he was not faced with the stress of keeping his enormous secret, that one day he would rest easy knowing he wasn't in danger of Arthur discovering the truth. However, upon his return, Merlin had never slept less in his life.

Images of Drin haunted his every waking move; the minute he closed his eyes the warlord was there, knife in hand, ready to hurt Merlin some more. When he would finally manage to fall asleep, that look of horror on Arthur's face had been burnt into his mind, fused with Drin's taunting words. The lack of sleep and nightmares that haunted him even whilst awake had led him to become even more unsteady on his feet, and had given his hands a subtle twitch that wasn't there before.

"Merlin!" The guard greeted joyously from the other end of the corridor. It'd made Merlin start, yet another symptom on a long-growing list, but he took a breath and calmed himself before he walked towards the guard. He really, really didn't want to talk, but even though he was exhausted, he still had his manners. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"No, I've er… been sick, and you know Gaius, always making sure people are a hundred percent before letting them back to work." Merlin grimaced. He was having trouble sticking to just one story of where he'd been the last month. "Anyway, enough about me, how have things been here?"

"Well, we had that mad dash looking for the king, and all of you, which I never really got to the bottom of…" The guard squinted for a moment, as if in thought, then shook it off. "After you all came back it's been quiet, not a lot going on, no 'evil sorcerers' infiltrating Camelot!" He guffawed, to which Merlin only gave an uncomfortable chuckle.

"That's, um, _good_?" He smiled uneasily. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have a month of chores to catch up on, and you what I'm like, I'll no doubt forget to do something." Merlin motioned to the end of the corridor where he was originally headed, and made to leave, the weight of holding the tray for just that short length of time already pinching his muscles quite tightly, and it was now becoming painful.

"Alright, see you later." The guard smiled, then slapped Merlin just below his bad shoulder in a friendly gesture, as he was leaving.

Had it been any other time, Merlin would've laughed it off with the guard. Perhaps he'd have followed it up with a promise to meet him in the tavern some time for a catch up. However, this wasn't any other time, and Merlin immediately felt a chill run down his back at the contact. It wasn't malicious, or carried out with any ill-intent, but his mind didn't see it that way. It only thought of Drin, thought of his knife and beatings from his guards, and it panicked.

Merlin said nothing, walking as quickly as he could around the corner, down the hall and through a large door into a back corridor. As soon as he was alone he felt his legs collapse under him as he roughly hit the stone floor. His breath had sped up and was catching in this throat; the constricting tightness in his chest was a contrast to his heart, which was racing to the point he felt it might escape from his chest and his vision had blurred to the point he couldn't see anything.

His thoughts leapt from one to the other; about Drin and the tower and the knife and Arthur, and how Arthur hated him and hated magic, and how none of this could possibly be real, he couldn't be here in Camelot still if Arthur knew. Somewhere in the distance a bell was ringing, though it could've just been the drumming in Merlin's ears, his senses flooded with the overwhelming sense of fear. He was going to die, the idea of it just wouldn't leave his head, he was going to die.

"Merlin." That cruel, singsong-y voice was battling the ringing; that sound that haunted his dreams blasting in his ears. It wasn't real, it wasn't real, it couldn't be real, he was dead, _wasn't he_? "Merlin." The voice carried on, cackling through his mind.

"Merlin? Merlin!" That voice was different, that wasn't Drin's, that was familiar, really familiar, but he didn't know how. "It's ok, Merlin, it's ok." Merlin's hands were tightly squeezed over his eyes, and he was slumped against the wall of the corridor, his breath ragged and heart still pounding. Someone though had put their hands on his arms, as light as a feather so as not to startle him, merely try to bring him some comfort. It was the gentlest of touches that managed to bring him back to reality, as much as he could, and he slowly removed his hands from his face, and opened his eyes.

"Gwen?" His voice was heavy and croaking, and he couldn't quite catch his breath, but he'd never been so happy to see the maid kneeling down in front of him. She wore a pensive expression, her brow was furrowed and her lips upturned into a worried frown, and her eyes were scanning Merlin's for signs of recognition. "Is this real?" He whispered, glancing around, expecting the world to fade away into a horrific vision of the tower, but to his surprise they stayed in the empty grey corridor, splashed with the red of the Pendragon crest.

"Yes, Merlin, I'm real, you're real, we're in Camelot." She smiled softly at him, her voice gentle as if speaking to a new-born. "Now you have to try to breathe for me, okay? You need to breathe _slowly._ " She kept eye contact with him as his breathe grew more and more stable, and his heart rate slowed down.

"Real." He repeated to himself, nodding slowly, making sure to keep his breathe steady. "Thank you." He leant forward, stopping short of wrapping his arms around Gwen. He hadn't felt so secure with someone since his return, and the proximity to her was helping to clear the foggy clouds of his mind.

"Oh Merlin." Gwen had to stop herself squeezing him tight. "What happened to you?" She whispered to herself, having never seen Merlin in such a state. Medically, he'd been in many scrapes before; she'd sat with him as the poison from Nimueh's chalice had worked its way through his body. However, he'd never broken down mentally, not like this. "Can you walk? We need to go to Gaius."

Merlin was reluctant to try to stand at first, worried his shaky legs would give way underneath him, but with a little persuasion from Gwen, and leaning on her for support, they made their way through the corridors towards the physician's quarters. Gwen made sure to take him through the quieter corridors, it was a slightly longer walk but a lot less populated with guards and nobles alike, as she had a feeling Merlin wouldn't want anyone to see him like this.

She helped him into the room, settling him down at the table, then checked through the house, looking for Gaius.

"He must be out on a visit," Gwen smiled, trying to keep her concerned expression neutral for Merlin, "I'll sit with you until he comes back." She took his hand, a gesture they both knew to be nothing more than friendly concern. After a few moments, once Merlin had finally caught his breath, a painful silence began to creep over them both. "Merlin…" She began, unsure of how much he'd be willing to talk about what happened.

"I don't know what to tell you Gwen," He wouldn't look at her, _couldn't_ , after what just happened. "I… had a moment of…" He had no words for her, no simple explanation that would satisfy her worry, other than the obvious truth he was unwilling to admit to himself.

"Panic, you can say it Merlin." Her tone was one of understanding, of an empathic sympathy. "And you can tell me what happened, I'm not going to tell anyone else."

"No one, really?" Merlin eyed her wearily, not intending for his tone to be cold, but nonetheless, that was how it came out, "not even Gaius?" Her silence told him everything. "I've spoken to him anyway; he knows how I'm feeling."

"Really?" Gwen mimicked his tone out of disbelief. "He knows that you're curled up in corridors, out of your mind with fright?" She shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"Please Gwen," Merlin finally looked up at her, "please just leave it alone." His voice was small and fatigued, fed up of fighting off the help that was affronted to him daily. He didn't need it. Normality would fix everything, he was so sure, if he could just carry on for a few more weeks then maybe…

"I don't know what happened to you Merlin." Gwen's voice broke him out of his reverie. "I'm sure I will never know the true extent of it, and I understand that you'll probably never want to talk about it. But I saw what physically happened to you and I helped treat you, and I can only imagine the thoughts that inhabit a person's mind after something like that, but I suspect that that is only part of what's wrong. I've been noticing for a while, something's different about you, ever since you returned from the lowlands. I think that's what's wrong, Merlin." She comfortingly held his hand through her assessment, and Merlin realised they never gave Gwen enough credit for her brilliance, how she'd managed to figure all that out without properly speaking to him.

"How did you know we-?"

"You and the knights have discussions in public that would better be suited to whispers. If you listen, you can hear anything in this castle." She said bluntly, a wry smile creeping over her, at which Merlin could only roll his eyes and return her smile. It was true, they weren't careful with their words lately. "I know you were held in the lowlands, and I know something happened other than your injuries. It's nothing to do with me, I don't need to tell you that, but I'd really like you to tell me. I could help." She met his gaze, intent on understanding what was going on in his mind.

"I can't." Merlin dropped his gaze to the table, shaking his head softly. He couldn't, could he? Actually _tell_ someone, with words, of his own accord; no threat, no pressure, just telling someone the truth because he _could_. "I really can't. you'd never look at me the same way again, you'd hate me." He couldn't lose someone who'd just proved how important they were to him.

"Merlin," she let out a disbelieving breath, "I'd never hate you, I promise, no matter what."

He nodded, affirming to himself that he was actually going to do this, to Gwen of all people, and finally pushed out the words he'd kept hidden within himself for far too long.

"I have magic."

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 **The cliffhangers are back!**

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 **So, my reasoning for not updating for three months:**

 **1\. I did go on holiday (thank you everyone for the lovely messages about that!)**

 **2\. I started a new full time course which took my attention away from writing and it's taken me this long to learn to balance writing and study**

 **3\. I had problems linking this chapter in with the rest of the story.**

 **I hope you all continue with this, I can't promise 100% regular updates, but I will try my best to keep updating. I never leave a story unfinished.**


	5. Of Trust and Treachery

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **You guys are the most awesome people ever. I can't thank you enough for sticking with me and being so understanding. Also thanks to the people who sent me PMs, I didn't realise you wouldn't be able to re-comment.**

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Gwen immediately dropped Merlin's hands. This couldn't be possible; she must have been imagining the words coming from his mouth. Either that or he was so wound up or off his head that he couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

"M-magic?" She whispered, glancing around unnecessarily in case of prying ears. The word was foreign and unsavoury on her tongue, unaccustomed as she was to speaking openly about it with another person. How much had Merlin's imprisonment affected him that he was now raving about magic? "I- I should get Gaius… maybe you need to-" She stood from the table in a hurry, knocking an empty bucket over in her haste.

"Wait, Gwen." Merlin stood too, and in her distraction, he grabbed hold of her arm. It wasn't a vicious hold, but certainly uncharacteristic of him, and Gwen stopped. She looked down at her arm, then back up at Merlin, his eyes containing a pleading sadness rather than any ill-intent. "Please." He sounded desperate and she could see that he wanted her to listen to him. After all they'd been through, it was the least she could do.

With that, Merlin raised his palm so it was level with the pair of them, and muttered something softly under his breath. Slowly a small, bright blue orb glowing with the most beautiful light rose from his hand, unbeknownst to him the same orb that had led Arthur to his salvation years before. But as had been happening of late, the spell failed and the orb flickered out of existence in a matter of seconds. He closed his palm quickly, staring sadly at it for a lingering moment, before sitting back at the table.

"You- you… I mean you…" For once, Gwen was lost for words. How could this be happening? How could she have not realised all these years that one of her closest friends had magic? Running a hand through her locks she glanced back at the door, then at Merlin, his face contorted with worry.

He wasn't confused, or lying to her; he had magic and had quite obviously and openly shared it with her. Everything she'd been taught was telling her to run a mile, to not be within inches of a sorcerer, yet she found herself drawn back towards Merlin, resuming her seat at the table and settling in. Her heart had told her a different story, it'd told her to trust him, as he'd trusted her over the many years they'd known each other, and listen to him, let him share anything and everything that he so obviously needed to.

"I know." Merlin groaned, throwing his head in his hands. Had he done the right thing? He thought he must've, seen as she was still in the room and hadn't fled the minute he'd opened his mouth. However this was still a foreign feeling to him, being in complete control of his revelations, something that he seldomly was anymore. "I know it's a big thing, and believe me I wouldn't have kept it a secret from you if it wasn't absolutely necessary." He didn't have an excuse with her, not really. She was one of, if not his closest friend, she didn't exactly hold the same level of prejudice most people in Camelot, especially in the castle, did. Yet he'd still not been able to break down his walls until now, and he wasn't sure they'd be crumbling at all if Arthur didn't know, his world having escalated somewhat in the previous months.

Gwen thought for a moment, weighing the sentence in her head. That she could believe, sorcerers weren't exactly welcomed with open arms into their home, especially as Merlin had arrived here when Uther was still at the helm of a bloodthirsty reign when it came to magic users and their families. She had so many questions, she didn't even know where to start, and didn't want to fluster him or scare him off so soon after opening up with her.

"Do you- I mean, can we talk about it?" Gwen stuttered and Merlin nodded, still slightly uncomfortable, but he was willing to move past that for the sake of having her know the truth about him. "Where should I begin?"

"Wherever you want to. But I will clarify a few things first; I've possessed magic for as long as I've been alive. I was born with it, it's always been a part of me. I'm what you'd call a warlock, mostly what I do is instinctive. And I've never used my magic to hurt someone, I need you to know that." _Liar!_ The little voice in his head screamed, the sight of Drin's purple face about to expire flashing across his vision. Gwen gaped, but said nothing, motioning for him to carry on. "Very few people have known up until now, my mother and Gaius mainly," Merlin felt no need to delve too into details at that moment, or start drenching up older wounds, having plenty for the meantime, "until we were taken." He began to rub his hands together awkwardly, his discomfort beginning to show. He knew it was his fault they'd been taken, and everything that had happened afterwards, he just couldn't resist playing the hero every time, and perhaps he had got too cocky and let himself join in the battle closer to hand, rather than supposedly cowering off centre. "The man who captured us – me mostly – he saw me use magic to try and help Arthur, and he thought I could be converted into a weapon of some sorts. He didn't like not getting him own way." Merlin gritted his teeth and flexed his hands, anything to stop him running his hands over his scars and relieving every cut and hit and word that had tortured him.

"Oh." Gwen's sudden realisation flew out of her mouth before her brain had caught up. She gave him a sympathetic look which almost by magic she managed without a single ounce of pity, something Merlin couldn't thank her more for. She'd never be able to truly empathise with him, never truly knowing the damage done, but she could treat him with respect still, she knew he was not some injured puppy to be pandered to.

"The man," Merlin took a deep breath before the next word out of his mouth, " _Drin,_ " it was still like acid on his tongue, "he told Arthur, who then told Gwaine and Leon and Percival and Elyan. Arthur… he didn't take it so well." He grimaced. That was a wound that would take a lot of healing. "He's trying to make up for it though. But Gwen I need you to know that I wanted me to be the one to tell you, and I wanted you to hear all this from me, because I need someone who hasn't been tainted by everything and that's you. I really, really hope you can forgive me for keeping this from you."

Merlin paused, hesitant to look back up at Gwen, not knowing if he could stand seeing the look in her eyes that he saw in Arthur's – the hurt and betrayal – because it would break him to lose her as well, along with everything else he'd lost since Drin. To his surprise, Gwen gripped his twitching hands tightly.

"There's nothing to forgive." She smiled, and in one instance, everything was alright in Merlin's world for a moment. For just one moment, there was no more hurt, or bad memories, or worry; there was just Gwen and her loving, accepting smile. There was a person sat in front of him who knew the truth and wasn't disgusted or hurt or angry, she was just there for him.

"Thanks." It was the only word he could muster through his cracking voice, emotion caught tightly in his throat. "That's why the-" he couldn't find the words to describe earlier, but he felt like Gwen knew exactly what he meant, "happened. I'll be alright one minute and then I've lost minutes of time and I don't know what's happening but I'm so scared." He scrunched his eyes. "I don't know how much longer I can bear this, I'm being haunted, I can't sleep, I can't breathe sometimes and I'm _terrified_. I can't do it anymore Gwen." His lip trembled, his façade that he exhaustingly tried to keep up at all times was cracking and emotion was bleeding through. He hated feeling this vulnerable, and wouldn't usually let anyone see him like this, but Gwen had proven she could see through his mask. "There's something else as well."

As Gwen moved in closer to comfort him and listen closely to whatever he was about to reveal, Gwaine strode towards the physician's chambers, in his bid to find Merlin. He'd checked the usual places he'd be whilst working, and was surprised to find him missing, especially as eager as he'd been to return to work. However, he hoped even Merlin knew his limits and had retired early for the day, and was properly resting, finally heeding Gaius' warnings.

He'd had concerns about the warlock since that day in his chambers when the shelf had crashed; Merlin hadn't seemed himself and was defiantly more on edge than usual. During the last fortnight, he'd tried to catch him, but he'd either been working or crashed out after his chores and Gwaine had decided today he was finally going to confront him, knowing the longer he left anything the worse it'd get.

As he approached the door he saw it was ajar and heard voices travelling through, speaking in hushed but anxious tones. Gwaine was normally no eavesdropper, he had little care for whispers and secrets of others, but when he'd heard Merlin's pained wobble and Gwen's comforting shushes he couldn't bear to interrupt the pair of them, yet he desperately needed to know what was happening with his friend, so he resigned himself to listening at the door. After what seemed like a lifetime, he quickly departed the corridor moments before Gwen, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

Gwen left the physician's quarters quietly, her heart filled with sorrow for her friend, for the lies he'd been forced to tell over the years, for the pain he'd suffered at the hands of a maniac, and for the worry he had for his friends and if he was ever going to mend bridges with them. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that barely noticed two sinister figures, meeting in the darkness of the corridor. Their shadows were cast high upon the stonework, their cloaks illuminated by the orange glow of the torches further down the hall.

"I don't understand." The shorter figure, who was slightly too wide for the cloak to cover him completely, spoke in a hushed tone. "What business do you have meeting with me? And under such nefarious circumstances too. Got something to hide, have we?" He let out a cold snicker.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?" The second figure growled. "There's been word around the castle. You're decidedly unhappy with the status quo, you believe the king has been making mistakes." The figure pointed out knowingly, yet not with the anger the other had expected.

"Now, see here!" The man blustered. "I… I've just been thinking…" Already excuses were forming in his head, ready to lie his way out of a possible treason charge. He'd not lose his position and all he had in this world for the sake of a few throwaway comments.

"Have you or haven't you been questioning the king's choices?" The figure pressed him, his voice hushed but intense, tired of the man's dithering already. They moved intimidatingly closer, their jaw set in a tight grimace.

"Tis true, I have." He heaved a reluctant sigh, realising he'd be unable to reason with such a figure. "Are you to arrest me now?" He was trying to maintain some sense of bravery, but his eyes were full of fear.

"I have knowledge that the king has recently made some mistakes that are now… deeply rooted in the heart of Camelot." The taller figure spoke carefully, ensuring their words were vague enough that they'd not reveal their play too soon.

"What knowledge?" The man quizzed, his mouth practically watering for scandalous rumours and damaging gossip.

"That is for I to know and you to not. This is not about castle gossip shared freely by maids, it is sensitive information and shall be treated as such." Another growl. "I wish to look out for Camelot's best interests and I believe in your own way, so do you, not that I agree with most of your ideologies."

"Are you… are you suggesting…?" The man blanched, wishing to be no part of any kind of conspiracy that could see him worse off than he already was. He'd rather lose his title than his neck.

"What?" A frown began to appear on the figure's features, oblivious to what the man was implying.

"That we… kill-?" The final word had been scarcely on his breath, and he glanced around, making sure they were well and truly alone if that was to be the subject of discussion.

"Of course not! Silence that talk at once." The voice hissed. "I simply believe our king needs to make better informed decisions regarding certain issues. Issues that would've been dealt with a lot differently under his predecessor."

"Most issues would've have been resolved differently." The man muttered, still somewhat mourning the loss of what, he perceived to be, the better king.

"You grow tiresome." The voice came through gritted teeth, clearly exacerbated at the man's tenacity for slander. "We are not here to deal with the king, but of problems surrounding him. Starting with the trustworthiness of his staff."

"His staff?" What on earth was wrong with his staff? His thoughts on Arthur Pendragon's reign consisted of many things, but the choosing of the people who worked under him was of little concern to the man.

"They're always close to him, some a hell of a lot closer than others. Do you not think that the people associating with Camelot's king should be vetted thoroughly?" The figure poked a finger at the confused man.

"I do, but what of it? As far as I know there's not a bad soul there." Admittedly he'd not spent long eyeing the king's servants, but he'd not noticed anything remarkedly unusual about any of them. Although there was-

"His manservant." His thought was finished for him.

"Lanky fellow? Name begins with a P or something?" He'd seen the boy many times, usually glued to the king's hip, a most unusual occurrence between master and servant. Uther never would've had any sort of _friendship_ with his servants, nor kept one on for so long.

"Merlin." Even they could not prevent an eye roll. "He has the king's ear, that much everyone knows. Do you know what he does with it?"

"No, what?"

"There you go." The figure held out their hands, as if proving their point. "A _servant_ influences our ruler on matters he has not been educated on at all. Who knows what he could be conspiring?" The figure gave the man a second to process the thought having planted the seed of doubt into his mind. With luck, it'd grow into a successful hatchling. "I understand he's been slacking off many of his duties as of late, perhaps if the king were to know of this, it might be to our benefit." A bit of encouragement couldn't hurt though.

"Why do you care about him so much, what advantage would it gain for the king to be rid of him?" He was still confused. The boy really didn't seem the type to be whispering venom into the king's ear; he couldn't imagine a simple servant could have much persuasion over the king of Camelot.

"Once again, that is not your concern." The figure breathed dismissively. "Just know it would be of a strategic advantage that he was no longer so closer to the king, something achievable between us two by showcasing his incompetence. Now, you will be attending a council meeting tomorrow, will you not?"

"As will you." The man countered.

"I will," they shrugged, as if it had no bearing on anything, "but I need you to complete the task: inform the king about his servants slipping standards."

"Why must it be my task?" The man looked affronted that he'd so suddenly been roped into this half thought out plan.

"Because I need to keep my closeness to the king, make sure everything still runs smoothly. I do not wish to fall out of favour with him. And doing this would put me at arm's length from him."

"But you're fine with allowing me to take the fall?" Came his snarky reply, not willing to so easily play the role of patsy in the figure's shady scheme.

"You would be lucky to retain your seat by the next year, the king wants you out." The man immediately paled at the thought. "Perhaps this way you may regain his favour." The figure scoffed. "Either way, you have far less to lose than I."

"I see." The man grimaced. "I shall mull it over this evening, and inform you by morning."

"Don't. Either do it, or don't. I shall know your feelings tomorrow either way." Again, the comment was played off with a simple shrug.

The man scoffed, affronted by his arrogance and nonchalance, then turned, making sure there was no one to witness their parting before taking one last glance behind him. "Farewell, _Sir Knight_."

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 **So many things happening! It's intense! Extra long chapter today, I think I hit 3000 words. We're now starting to see formations of some of the storylines that will be running through this fic.**

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 **I've been working on a couple of chapters when I have the time, but I am having to manoeuvre around deadlines. I'm thinking that I'll work on the story a lot more throughout the Christmas break in a few weeks, then have some more chapters uploaded in the new year, but we'll see how we go.**

 **Bloody coursework.**


	6. Of Disapproval and Disillusion

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **New chapter (and many more in progress)! I'm so glad I got this up today (2.24 am on the 25th December), because it means I get to say Merry Christmas (or whichever holiday you celebrate) and a Happy New Year to all my readers and followers. You guys are awesome.**

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Still fretting about their meeting the day before, Arthur had had little else on his mind besides the fact that today was not only the first council meeting that Merlin would be in attendance of, but one he'd also be working. It wasn't the most strenuous of jobs that was on Gaius' ever growing list of things Merlin was now allowed to do, but it was such a public event. Arthur had become much more protective over Merlin since they'd come back, and even more so with some of the fossils who still served on the council. So having him back in full view of some very unsympathetic people whilst he was still recovering didn't seem like a good idea for anyone.

He headed towards the council room, arms full with papers he'd studied and signed, albeit reluctantly as he'd had to sit and force himself to read the intensely boring documents. Usually he'd have a manservant pottering about and cracking jokes to distract him, his absence noticed by the king in the quietest of moment. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the figure storming up towards him until it was too late to dodge her wrath.

"Arthur." Her tone was clipped, unusually for her, especially when she was speaking with Arthur. Her voice was normally soft and gentle, but today sounded stern and aggravated.

"Gwen." Arthur smiled cheerily, as they'd do on the occasions they met around the castle. A chance meeting with her would brighten his day immensely, and he always made an effort to spend as much time with her without being too obvious. However, taking one glance at her stormy features, he realised this meeting would not put the spring in his step that their encounters usually would. "What's the matter?" He couldn't figure out what was on her mind, surely she couldn't be angry with him, the few times they'd manage to see each other since they got back had been filled with nothing but pleasantries, and he was sure he hadn't done anything to upset her.

"How could you?" Her voice was low but determined, as she stared imploringly into his eyes. Arthur blinked in confusion, his mind still whirring with hat he possibly could've done to trouble her so, until Gwen got fed up waiting for the penny to drop and pulled him closer into the wall to shield their conversation. "Merlin." The usual calming tone to her voice hitched slightly with exasperation.

"Merlin?" Arthur's confusion was suddenly ablaze with possibilities. Had Merlin told her of his magic? Had she heard something from somewhere? No good could come of gossip about Merlin spreading throughout the castle.

"I've just had a conversation with him." She crossed her arms, shooting Arthur a deathly glare.

"And what- what has he told you?" Arthur rubbed the back of his head, feigning ignorance on the subject. He was going to have to tread carefully, she and Merlin could've spoken about any number of things, it was not necessarily his big secret that was the root of this conversation. "Exactly?"

"Everything." Her voice was unwavering.

"And what exactly is 'everything'?" Arthur was still playing dumb, although it only seemed to be infuriating her more, but he couldn't take the chance that this was all some big misunderstanding and reveal everything to her.

"How about the fact he has…" She was still having trouble saying it out loud. " _Magic_." Her eyes dotted about the corridor, as if a guard would cart her off instantly for just saying the word, then searched for Arthur's gaze and his reaction. Arthur's stare was full of confusion and questions.

"He's told you?" Gwen nodded. "That's- that's big." He couldn't believe it, Merlin had told Gwen about his magic. "How? When? _Why_ did he tell you?" He was having a hard time understanding Merlin's motivations; he'd been so upset about all of them knowing his secret, yet he'd just told Gwen. Either it was a very good sign, or a very bad one.

"I can't tell you that." Gwen bit her lip and cast her eyes away from Arthur. She wouldn't tell him. Merlin had given her strict instructions and he'd been let down by enough people recently. But she was going to give him a nudge towards opening up to someone else, hopefully Gaius, about what was happening.

"What?" Arthur gave her a disbelieving grin. "We don't have secrets anymore, you have to tell me." Now he was getting worried. Gwen wouldn't just hide 'nothing', if Merlin had sworn her to secrecy, it meant either he didn't trust Arthur enough, or he didn't want other people knowing something. Arthur suspected, and selfishly hoped, that it was the latter. But if he was hiding something from everyone, that meant it was something big. "Is he alright?"

"It's not my place to tell you." She was torn up inside. She wished she could just blurt out everything about the panic attacks to him, he was one of Merlin's closest people, but he was still not over the things Arthur had said. And she had no right to tell him, even though it did worry her, the amount of secrets the warlock was now keeping. "All you need to know is that he needed someone to talk to, and I was a friendly ear who would listen without judgement. I just didn't realise how much he'd be telling me, I don't think he did either, it just sort of slipped out from him."

"Why didn't he come to me?" She could see the hurt on his face. Arthur missed the closeness between them, Merlin was acting as if he were just any other servant, and not speaking to him as he used to. He didn't have anyone else _he_ could talk to like Merlin, and he missed it.

"You two aren't exactly inseparable as of late." The comment came out far snarkier than she'd intended, but it was the truth. Merlin was so conflicted with his mental state, that unloading everything to Arthur would've just confused him even more.

"Did he mention me, in your 'discussion'?" Arthur was hopeful if he could get the truth from Gwen about how Merlin was really feeling, then he could make progress towards fixing their relationship, having very little to go on recently about what was in his head. And he had tried, truly, to help him, but Merlin hadn't either wanted or needed his help, and was out of ideas of what to try next.

"Oh yes, we had a long chat about you." Her tone did not sound too optimistic of a sudden reunion or change of heart on Merlin's behalf. In fact, it sounded like she had a lot of anger directed towards him.

"Look Gwen, I'm sorry for not telling you, but Merlin didn't-" Arthur's excuses were quickly cut off.

"You think _that's_ what this is about?" Gwen looked incredulous at the very suggestion, and hurt too. "That I'm angry you didn't tell me?" She couldn't believe he would think so low of her, that she'd play the stroppy child because she felt she'd been left out of the loop. She knew very well that Merlin had had his reasoning for it, and from what he'd told her, she should count herself honoured that he'd shared his information with her.

"No?" Arthur tried to manoeuvre around her as best he could. He'd genuinely thought that was why she was mad, he couldn't think of anything else unless-

"He also told me what _you_ said to him." Arthur's heart constricted in his chest. Of course Merlin hadn't forgiven him, how could he after saying what he did to him, but he didn't realise he would tell Gwen. It was selfish and wrong of him, but he didn't want other people knowing about his shameful actions.

"That- that was a mistake, and I am paying for it every day." There was no justifying it, and deep down he knew that. But he had to try, he had to at least try and show Gwen how sorry he was for it.

" _You're_ paying for it? How have you turned this around on yourself, as always?" Gwen shrugged herself away from the king, who instantly winced at his words. "Do you know what's going on with Merlin? Because it's not pretty Arthur, and this is somewhat down to you." Her words stung him deeply, but he couldn't find fault with them. He didn't know what was going on in his best friends head, and his stupid split second decision was the cause of it.

"It was a gut reaction in the heat of the moment!" He pleaded with her, desperate for her to understand the circumstances.

"It doesn't matter to him whether you thought about what you said or not; all that matters to him is that you said what you said and how you treated him, until your eventual 'epiphany'. You hurt him, when he was already in pain." Her words were still cutting, but she'd taken the edge off her voice, ensuring he'd understand how serious this was, that Merlin wasn't just going to wake up fixed.

"He knows I'm sorry." His words fell flat, not sure even he'd convinced himself of it.

"Does he? Because right now he is so alone inside his head and none of you have done anything about it. You, Gwaine, my brother, Percival; even Gaius isn't doing anything. Why are you tiptoeing around him like he'll break and not doing anything to help?" Her frustrations with the king and knights were boiling over.

"Because he was tortured, in front of us." Arthur's voice was soft and sad. "Do you understand Gwen? I let it happen, I walked away from him when Drin pushed a knife into his stomach. I can't just force myself back into his life." As painful as it was to admit, it the honest truth. Arthur hadn't tried to fight that guard taking him back to cell. He'd just walked away dumbstruck. "I've tried to help, but what am I supposed to do if he won't let me in?" Arthur huffed, crossing his arms.

"Try harder." She implored him in a hoarse whisper, trying not to let herself get too angry with him. "Before he really hurts himself." She added in a softer tone.

"You think it's that bad?" Arthur's body language changed in an instant. Gwen knew something, definitely. And he didn't feel like she was just talking about Merlin state of mind when she said he might hurt himself, god if that was the case then he was not going to leave his friend's side every again, no matter how he protested.

"I saw with my own two eyes how bad it was," the memories of him curled up the corridor, so out of his mind with fright still haunted her, "the lot of you must be blind." She scoffed. "Help him Arthur. You've got to." With that she stormed off down the hall, and Arthur watched her disappear, reeling from her words.

Had she been right? Was Merlin really not coping that well? He knew he'd not had an easy time since they returned, but he thought with time and some space he'd get better, and he'd be alright again and everything could go back to the way it was. Though maybe Arthur had been fooling himself from the get-go, not wishing to have anything more to do with Merlin on his conscience.

"Arthur." Gwaine jogged to catch up to the king as he strode down the corridor.

"Can it wait Gwaine?" Arthur huffed, already wound up from his interaction with Gwen. "I've got a council meeting to get to, and Merlin's there for the first time in weeks. I want to make sure it doesn't overwhelm him." He'd not wanted to sound so condescending, but he was genuinely worried. It was his first full day of duties, one of which involved standing for a long period and interacting with buffoonish nobles, neither of which he'd enjoy.

"That's actually what I wanted to speak to you about." Gwaine matched Arthur's pace, clearly not letting the matter drop. "How has Merlin seemed to you lately?" He wore a pensive expression, and Arthur couldn't get a proper read on it, whether it was just an offhand comment from Gwaine, or whether it was going somewhere.

"I'd have to actually have spoken to him to understand how he's feeling." Arthur muttered under his breath, not wanting to carry on this discussion with Gwaine. He'd been feeling frustrated and helpless since they'd returned, watching his friend hurt and not being able to do anything about it. He'd just assumed Merlin was telling all to Gwaine, a man he clearly trusted more than himself.

"He's not speaking to you either?" Gwaine breathed, making Arthur stop dead in his tracks.

"What do you mean ' _either'_? I thought…" No, Arthur had been sure Merlin was talking to Gwaine. That was the only reason he'd been allowing him to have so much space, because Gwaine had been visiting him whilst he was still recovering. And surely they'd been talking? He understood, though hated, why Merlin wasn't exactly talkative with him recently, but Gwaine was different, he'd been on his side from the beginning.

"Merlin has barely spoken to me, the times I visited when he was still house-bound I barely got a conversation out of him, and since he's returned to work I've only seen him a handful of times." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. Not good. Merlin wasn't confiding in either of them, people who'd seen first-hand what had happened to him, instead he was telling Gwen everything, and relieving the experience? It didn't make any sense. Something must've really spooked him to go into detail with her.

"It's not just me?" Arthur took a breath. Maybe his servant didn't hate him as much as he'd first thought. Just the idea that it was a more general problem, rather than just with him made Arthur somewhat grateful, but also incredibly more anxious about his wellbeing. "He's got to be speaking to someone though, right? I mean, he tells everything to Gaius."

"I wouldn't count on it, he seems to be not much clued up than either of us. I reckon he knows something that he's not letting on, but I doubt he knows everything." Gwaine paused for a moment, obviously weighing something up in his head. "I overheard Merlin earlier when I was going to go see him, I think he was talking to Gwen, about you-know-what."

"Yeah we've had words." Arthur chuckled humourlessly. "But he's only told her today, and I'm still not sure how detailed he got about everything. Which means he hasn't been talking to anyone about this for the past month." Arthur wasn't pushing the talking aspect for nothing; he'd seen torture victims go completely mad, reliving experiences over and over, until there was little of the original person, and he'd be damned if he let that happen to Merlin on his watch. He needed to know that people were there for him, that it was okay to be hurt, angry upset, whatever he was feeling, but pushing it to the back of his mind would do nothing but hurt him further.

"That's why I was really hoping you and he were talking." Gwaine sighed into his hands. "I don't understand why he's shutting us out. Could you try getting it out of him? I mean I obviously can't get through to him."

"You think I haven't been trying? He won't stay in a room with me for more than five minutes." Arthur had to bite back the anger in that comment. He'd been really trying with Merlin, and he'd got nothing, nothing in response. He took a breath, calming himself before saying anything regrettable. "I'll catch him after the council meeting, I'll make sure he's doing alright."

"I honestly don't think he is." Gwaine grimaced before walking away.

Arthur rubbed his eyes, thinking hard. He didn't know that he'd be able to get Merlin to talk, especially not if even Gaius was having problems getting through to him. But his talk with Gwaine had worried him. He wasn't the most in touch with his feelings, but even he knew after going through what Merlin did he'd have to talk to someone about it, just to have someone support him and his thoughts.

He pushed through the doors into the council room with a heavy sigh, suddenly having what seemed like the weight of the world on his shoulders, and sat at the head of the table. The councilmen stood and quietly addressed him as 'sire' to acknowledge his presence, before returning to setting up the meeting and shuffling papers. It was a fairly small affair, and wasn't of great urgency or importance, well the content of the meeting anyway. For one particular person attending the meeting however, it would hopefully be a massive step in the right direction.

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 **Someone ask for angst for Christmas?**

 **If the chapter seems a little short, it's because this was originally going to include a scene in the next chapter, but it was becoming far too long as I added more and more dialogue, so I decided to split the chapters. I hope you feel there's enough going on in this chapter. Seven will be up soon, there's a hell of a lot of tension to write.**

 **P.S To my readers that are also writers, do review notifications expire on here? I've realised I don't always receive emails about new reviews posted to my stories, especially some of the older ones.**

 **P.P.S I have a Beta account on here that I'd like to start using more in the new year, anyone and everyone is more than welcome to take a look and send me anything they want me to look at or need help with.**


	7. Of Disloyalty and Disgrace

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Happy new year guys!**

 **College has been mental since I went back a few weeks ago, lots of deadlines and coursework to do. I also have been back and forth with this chapter and the next one. It's a little shorter than most, mainly because I wrote it with two scenes and now it only has one, for pacing reasons.**

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Arthur smiled to himself when Merlin entered the room carrying a pitcher of wine, and glanced him up and down to see how he was faring. He'd starting to put weight back on, his slender build now slender again, rather than bony and gaunt as had been, he seemed to be recovering; but his gaze was still distant and lost. He glanced up at Arthur, and returned his smile in an obvious attempt to ease the king's worries. The smile wasn't a Merlin smile though. It didn't reach his eyes and light up a room, instead seeming to be more of a mask than genuine happiness. He'd all but stopped using the phrase 'I'm fine' as of late, as many people he'd spoken to had become unconvinced of its sincerity.

He moved around the room, weaving in between the nobles, gently pouring small amounts of wine into everyone's waiting cups, but he was a lot slower and more methodical than usual. Merlin would not make a fool of himself in front of these people, instead he'd prove to everyone he was no longer an invalid, that he could indeed still stand around and pour wine. His shoulder was beginning to ache and twinge though, but he bit his lip and made sure to transfer more weight to his good shoulder, unwilling to bring any attention to his ailment.

"Gentlemen, let's keep this short and sweet, shall we?" As much as he tried not to, Arthur's glance landed on Merlin, unintentionally directing his comment to the manservant, who responded with a scowl and a look. "We've all got our lives to be getting on with, and there is not much of note to discuss today." He tried to cover up his error, not wanting Merlin to feel like he was being babied again, but the warlock's stare was drawn away from the king, and his mouth was upturned into a frown.

Arthur rose from him seat and planted the documents on the table in front of him, ready to begin the arduous subject of discussing the papers he'd signed. He sincerely hoped the meeting wouldn't last too long, he felt this moment would be the best to get Merlin to cooperate, when he felt useful and needed and back to a normal job, when another also stood. The man, in one movement, had made himself the centre of attention within the room and turned his nose up at everyone else; arrogance reeking off him.

"My lord," he began unapologetically, even though he'd practically interrupted the king, "before we begin discussing council matters, I would speak on a subject most pressing." Both Arthur and Merlin noticed the confidence he seemed to be emanating, even more so than usual. Something was about to happen. Something very not good.

"Yes, Lord Arrington?" Arthur breathed through a false smile. He wanted to end the meeting as soon as possible and get onto more important things, like his talk with Merlin; even if he had to lock the pair in a room together, and Arrington had a history of going on and on at length about nonsense subjects, rambling away in his own little world.

"I am concerned for you, your majesty." His smirk laced with false concern set Merlin on alert, eyeing the noble warily. He'd never cared for Arrington, finding the man rude and overbearing, but now there was something more to it, a scheming look in his eyes he'd not seen before.

"For me?" Arthur squinted, taken aback at the lord's forward manner. "May I ask why? My health has never been better, ask Gaius if you must." He too did not trust the sneaky noble, especially since their disagreement about Merlin the month before, but the king made sure his manner was steadier than it had been in their last meeting, in which Arthur had let his emotions overrun him and almost caused an outburst.

"Not for your health, sire, but for the lack of discipline you appear to be showing towards the household staff." Arthur found his demeanour immediately slipping. At best, Arrington was about to lecture the king on the state of the halls' floors, which would be unwise and unusual at a council meeting. At worst, this was about Merlin, and Arrington could throw any number of accusations at him as of late, people were already beginning gossip.

How Arthur wished he could just wipe the sneer from Arrington's smug face.

"My staff?" Instead he raised an enquiring eyebrow towards Arrington, daring him to continue. Arthur was worried that the latter would be true, that he'd be talking about the one person who really, really did not need this, not with the way he was at moment.

"They seem to think they can dally as they like." Arrington's eyes darted over to Merlin, and his comment was followed by an accusatory finger pointed towards the servant. "In fact, I saw your servant practically skiving his duties all this last week. Apparently, he's been delegating his duties as he sees fit, and when he does bother to attend to his chores, they've been done dreadfully." He tutted, and Merlin could feel all the attention in the room being diverted towards him. He gripped hold of the wine jug until his knuckles were white, intent on casting his gaze anywhere but at the pontificating noble. "If he is no longer fit as a servant, perhaps he should be fired, and a more attentive replacement found. Or at least whipped for his apathy. That _is_ how we deal with the idle and unwilling, _sire_." The last word more mockery than deference.

Merlin had begun to feel dizzy, and he could feel the entire room looking at him, judging him, and it made him want to run and hide, away from the prying eyes, but every muscle in his body was tensed, setting him on edge. Why would Arrington say those things about him? Was it so noticeable that he hadn't been working as much recently? He'd been trying his best, pushing himself to get the work done even though it was tough, but what if it wasn't enough? What if he couldn't ever be back to the way he was? Thoughts had begun spiralling through his head, cascading into panic.

"Lord Arrington, are you questioning my judgement?" Arthur was trying his best to keep a calm façade, though inside he was burning with anger. How dare he do this. Merlin had been through so much as of late, and a hell of a lot more beforehand, and this man was trying to make him seem imbecilic. "Do you believe I lack the capabilities to determine how I deal with _my_ servants? Because I believe that that is known as treason." At the mention of a treason charge, Arrington blanched, but continued his verbal assault.

"My lord, forgive my impertinence," he grovelingly sneered, the least sincere apology either of them had ever seen, "I merely wish to imply that you have had this boy in your possession for several years now," Arthur should've punched him just for referring to Merlin as being owned, "and you may have, I don't know… grown accustomed to having him around. His constant presence is blinding you to his lack of capacity as a servant."

"Blinded?" Arthur spluttered, "Lord Arrington, may I remind you who you are talk-"

"Well sire, I mean actually, what use is he if he's no doubt sleeping off a hangover somewhere instead of properly attending you?" His tactic of blustering through the conversation was beginning to work, because whilst it wasn't changing Arthur's mind on the situation one bit, some of the nobles had begun nodded their heads and murmuring to each other.

As well as the other lords, he'd also begun to affect Merlin, whose chest was tightening. Arrington was telling the truth, and everyone had to know that. They were all looking at him like an injured mule for god's sake, of course it was the truth. He still couldn't properly work due to his injury, and the random moments of dizziness and panic he was experiencing from time to time weren't helping.

"The boy should not be shirking his duties!" A fellow councilman exclaimed, one of Arrington's cronies Arthur and another he would greatly like to see the back of. "He should be made an example of, lest others believe they too can swan around the castle doing little to no work."

"King Uther would've had him dutifully punished." Another chimed in, a man eager for any mention of 'the glory days' when Uther was in charge and people lived their lives more in fear than in ease.

"That's enough." Arthur spoke up, but fell on deaf ears as others clamoured to denounce Merlin, some continually mentioning how it would've been in Uther's days.

"I… I…" Merlin couldn't find any words to hit back at the drone coming from the council, his mind too abuzz with panic and the overwhelming sense of insecurity and inadequacy. "I…" He squeezed his eyes shut. He was fine, he was alright, they didn't mean-

 _Told you boy. You have nothing._

His hands unwillingly let go of the porcelain wine jug. It crashed to the floor with a piercing smash, tiny shards scattering themselves all over the polished floor, now dripping with the red liquid that had begun pooling around him. He glanced at the mess surrounding his feet, then up at the peers glaring at him, a hateful menace radiating from them, and finally at Arthur, whose expression could only be described as perplexed pity. Mumbling something of an apology, he darted for the doors, unable to stay in the room a moment longer.

Part of Arthur had wanted to dart off after Merlin, to chase him down and make sure the harsh words hadn't gotten to him, but instead he stayed seated at the council, determined to stand up to these men once and for all. He'd finally had enough of their bigoted and antiquated ways, and he was going to start with the ringleader.

"Silence every one of you." The loudness and ferocity of his voice this time commanded they cease with their noise. "This is not what the council is for, and my servants and their efforts are my business alone. I will not stand here and be lectured on the etiquette of the people _I_ choose to employ. I have faith in the people I choose to surround myself with, and after today, I must and will reconsider many of them. Not another word from any of you, unless it's on city matters or grain figures." A stillness descended on the people in front of him. "No, nothing?" He scoffed. "Then I have only one more matter that must be attended to. Lord Arrington." The room was silent, all eyes captivated on the unfolding drama, the councilmen gawking at one of their own about to be hung out to dry. "From what I've gathered about our… _discussion_ this afternoon, it is obvious that you have no sense of loyalty." He growled, hands clasped in front on him on the table. He was subtly digging his nails into one of his palms, in an attempt to keep his composure, otherwise he may have had to break Arrington's smug face.

"I do sire, to you, as well as your late father. And I for one know that he would've replaced that boy ten times over by now. After all, you don't keep a lame horse working, you put it out of its misery." He crooned, seemingly pleased with his analogy, attempting one final time to sway the king's mind, but to Arthur, that was the final straw.

"That is enough." Arthur rose from his seat. "I will not have you disrespect me or any of my servants in my presence. Especially Merlin, who you may recall was personally appointed by my father." Arthur's comment had struck a fatal blow to all those calling for a revival of the old days.

Arthur couldn't have cared less about Merlin back then, the insufferable servant he'd been saddled with, but to his and Uther's unawareness, the old king had given the young prince the best person he'd ever met, a person he couldn't imagine his life without any longer, someone who'd saved his life countless times and he was hoping now he could save Merlin's.

"Sire, you must see," he began, a nervous chuckle in his throat, "I only wish-" His words were unceremoniously cut off by the king, refusing for anymore of his bile to reach his ears.

"I want nothing more to do with you." He sniffed, heading to the corridor towards which Merlin had bolted, then took one final look behind him. "You are dismissed from this court, pending a review of _your_ usefulness to me."

With that, he walked out of the court, leaving many of the men agog, and Arrington notably deflating. He was determined to find his manservant, he needed to see that he was alright, that the lord's words hadn't got under his skin, and finally, he would demand some answers from him.

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 **Well, things always have to get worse before they get better, don't they?**

 **I'm going to work on getting 8 finished, it's currently it three parts at about 800 words.**


	8. Of Honesty and Openness

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **I'm back! Although to be honest I never went away, but my life got so filled up with work I had zero free time to write and publish, and this chapter is so important it needed to be perfect.**

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Arthur turned the corner, not more than a few paces outside Gaius' chambers, when he spotted the familiar raven-haired servant crumpled in a heap on the floor, his head in his hands. The sound of his approaching feet, coupled with the gentlest call of his name, made him look up, and for the first time in what felt like forever he saw his Merlin. The fear in his eyes, the agony on his features, and the desperate attempt to recover his façade.

"Arthur, I'm so sorry about the wine and leaving the court, I just-" Merlin made to stand up, but Arthur motioned for him to stay where he was; instead sinking down to join him on the cold, stone floor and pulled his knees towards his chin. "You're on the floor." The warlock pulled a face, his confusion evident. If he wasn't feeling so awful right now, he'd be lauding it over the king, that 'Mr High and Mighty' had literally sunk to his level. Or he'd be in stitches at the sight of them – the king and his servant – sat together in one of Camelot's damp corridors, and on the floor no less.

"Yes, it appears I am." Arthur chuckled to himself, also not quite believing he had actually sat down, and gave Merlin a gentle nudge with his shoulder. It was light enough to be respectful of his current situation, yet rough enough not to be treating him as if he were made of glass. "Look Merlin…" He began, the next words unwilling to exit his mouth, for fear of the reply he'd get. "I know that you can't forgive me, but-"

"That's not what this is about, at all, Arthur, okay?" Merlin immediately interrupted him.

Arthur was nowhere near the top of his list of problems, though he did think it was best to withhold the fact that he did indeed play a part in his nightmares. It wasn't something Arthur, or anyone, needed to know. He didn't fear the king, not in the way his subconscious wanted him to, and he definitely didn't want Arthur thinking he did. He guessed he'd spent so long hiding himself from the king that his brain didn't know how to process the fact that his magic was now out in the open, metaphorically at least.

"Truly?" Arthur blinked.

"I understand why that was your first reaction, and although it was not what I wanted to hear – it was my biggest fear actually –" Merlin let out a breath, something of a humourless laugh, and Arthur's glance was once more cast to the stone floors, "I know that you are not your father, and you've tried so hard to make amends." The guilt of mistreating him these past few weeks hadn't made it any easier to be able to talk to him. He ran his hands through his hair and let out a deep sigh; a realisation dawning on him. "You've spoken to Gwen, haven't you?"

"She, uh, broached me on the matter." Her piercing eyes were not something he'd forget anytime soon. "We discussed some things, mainly about you," Arthur admitted, "and the fact you'd spoken to her about… things, but she didn't go into the detail I'd have liked her to. She won't tell me much, but she knows… certain things and she's more or less in the loop now." Merlin wasn't sure if he was relieved or anxious that she'd spoken with the king. He'd entrusted her with details he hadn't shared with anyone else yet, didn't know how to share, and as much as he did trust her, he couldn't help but wonder how much she'd let slip. "Why couldn't you talk to me Merlin? Why did you tell Gwen everything and me nothing? I thought you hated me for what I did, if it wasn't hate, what was it?" His voice was cracking with emotion, trying in vain to keep his composure calm whilst Merlin regained his. He hadn't wanted to his outburst to sound accusatory, but nevertheless it had, and Arthur honestly wanted to know why he'd shared with Gwen and not him, not realising his jealousy until now.

"Arthur," Merlin breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I don't hate you, I will never hate you. I maybe don't like you when you throw a goblet at my head," both let out a chuckle of laughter, "but I don't think I could ever hate you. Even in the tower, when I thought I'd lost you forever and I was going to…" Merlin's voice caught in his throat as he scrunched his eyes, " _die_ , I didn't hate you. I was in pain but I understood. And you haven't had me executed, which can only be a good thing." Merlin tried a half smile in Arthur's direction, but he didn't return it.

"I don't know how much you remember after we got out, I mean you were… _asleep_ for most of it." He stared thoughtfully ahead.

"After I got free my magic just exploded and I blacked out, from there it's patchy, all the way through to when Petch was treating me, and even then, there's still missing time. I wasn't properly coherent until I woke up in Camelot, after three days of coming home." Merlin explained. "I mean there's chunks of being in that tower I can't remember fully, just the feelings." He grew quiet. "Why?"

"Gwaine tried to take you away from Camelot." Arthur mumbled. "Just after we got out of the tower."

"What do you mean 'take me away'?" His brows knitted together.

"We had a discussion after we'd set up camp. Well not really a discussion, he told me he was taking you back to Ealdor, that if you went back to Camelot you were in danger." Arthur could still feel some residual resentment towards Gwaine, even though they'd amicably work something out, he'd still insinuated Merlin wouldn't have been safe in Camelot, around him, and they'd not spoken of it since. It seemed there was a lot of keeping feeling shut off around the castle, not just between Arthur and Merlin.

"Danger? From what, who?" Merlin looked puzzled.

"Me. That I might snap and one day decide to execute you. He told me 'you can't take it back once he's dead'. I told him the truth, and it's something you need to know. When I got back to those cells, I was shell-shocked, and hurt and betrayed, and I thought you were a sorcerer, and my mind…" He stopped himself, and balled his fists by his sides, unwilling to admit the next part. "I thought for a split second, that you'd be executed if you came back to Camelot. And it went as soon as I thought it and I was disgusted with myself, but Gwaine thought I'd get that feeling again, and I'd have the means to kill you, and you wouldn't be safe around me."

"I don't- I-" Merlin stammered. It hurt, of course it did, but it had only been for a moment, and Arthur had spent his whole life being indoctrinated by his father and peers to hate magic, so it was only logical he'd have that thought, and like he'd said, nothing he'd said or done since they got back revealed any contempt he felt for Merlin, or his magic. It didn't make him feel any better about it though.

"I would never hurt you Merlin. You need to understand that." Merlin nodded slowly, but still didn't say anything. "I fought so hard with him for you to come back to Camelot. I made him see that you could come home." Arthur remembered that moment so clearly, the one where he'd finally come to the realisation he'd been Merlin all along, and him having magic didn't change that.

"Why?" Merlin said, almost in a whisper. "It would've been simpler to let me go." He didn't know what he would've done had he woken up in Ealdor. Could he have adjusted back to a rural, farming life, living with the knowledge that Arthur hadn't let him return to Camelot? Or would he have been as miserable as he was before he ventured into the outside world, with little but a rucksack and a letter for Gaius.

"Because I would've missed you, idiot." Arthur wondered how Merlin could even ask that.

They sat together quietly for what could've been seconds, or minutes, neither was really counting.

"I want you to know I wasn't shutting you out." A look from Arthur made Merlin reconsider his words. "Okay, so maybe I've been shutting you out, but it wasn't like I told Gwen everything just to spite you, she saw me in a dark moment and when someone sees you at your most vulnerable, it changes the way they perceive you." Merlin let the last line hang in the air for a moment, clearly not just talking about the incident earlier. "I needed someone to understand, just for two minutes, what was in my head and why everything was happening."

"If you could talk to her then, why couldn't you talk to us before? Why can't you talk to me? Gwaine came to me, he's worried about you as well." Arthur started. "We each thought you'd been talking to the other, or at least Gaius."

"I can't talk about it Arthur, not in the way you want me too. I didn't admit most of what happened to me when I was telling Gwen. She doesn't even know the half of every injury he gave me, and she's still horrified. Imagine living with all that knowledge and all those memories inside your head, all the time. It's too painful to continually acknowledge them every minute of every day, like you seem to want me to." Merlin paused for breath, an anger that had been kept under wraps for weeks bursting through. "Do you not think it's enough that it happened? Why should he get to dictate what happens to me now? Why should he make me relive it all just for the sake of 'closure'?"

"Because it's hurting you." Arthur's look wasn't of pity, but of empathy and realisation just how his friend had been affected by that monster. "I can't stand back and watch him take your mind too. You're too good to let that happen, too brave to let him have this fear holding you down. Maybe you've got to let him in to shut him out again, for good, not just until you heal, or until you can get back to work, but forever."

"I thought it would go away." Merlin breathed, struggling to keep his composure, to not turn into a blubbering wreck, especially in front of Arthur. He'd hold steady, he'd keep it together. "I thought when I got better, I'd wake up one morning and everything would suddenly be clear again, but it hasn't. It's like I'm living in a rainstorm and I don't know when the sun's coming back. I get reminders of him, and of the tower, everywhere. It can be something as small as seeing a bandage and being back on Petch's table, or a clap on the back and I'm there with him and that guard hitting me, and it's like I shut down. Sometimes I can power my way through it, I can push him to the back of mind, deal with it when it… comes back, but sometimes it takes over completely and I'm so scared. I'm back in that room and I'm so powerless and he-" Merlin faltered over his next few words, "he's won this, hasn't he?" He looked away from the king, screwing his face up so the tears wouldn't fall. He wouldn't let it out. He'd be brave.

"No, listen to me Merlin. He will never win, okay? You can beat him, I know you can." Arthur optimistically enthused, but Merlin had had enough of false optimism and hope, from Arthur, Gaius, Gwaine; all of them were determined to make the truth unnecessary and spin him lies about a brighter future.

"Why do people keep saying that?" He let out a frustrated shout. "I obviously can't; look at what happened today. It got too much in the council room and I freaked. That could happen every day for the rest of my life, and it wasn't even that much of an event. It was one small thing that made me lose my mind. How am I supposed to live like this?"

"I've dealt with Arrington." Arthur stressed. "He'll not be around much longer." He had a secret glee that he finally had an excuse to get rid of the old council member, although he lamented that Merlin had to go through what he did just to be free of him.

"It's not just Arrington though, is it?" He threw his hands up in frustration. "It's everything about this place." He seethed for a moment. Pain was everywhere he looked etched into every detail of the place he'd called home for so many years.

"Camelot's your home." Arthur murmured, his voice small and sad. "You can't let him run you out of it."

"I can't stay here with reminders everywhere I turn, even if I do get… _fixed_ , nothing is as it was, or ever will be again." Merlin gestured in frustration. The frantic action made his shoulder twinge and he grew even more frustrated, again another reminder that could be with him for the rest of his life.

"Why would you want that Merlin? To go back to lies and secrets and fear of your friends? What's the alternative? You go back to Ealdor and live your life with regrets and worry?" He shook his head, determined that that was not an option. "You stand firm and stay here and let the people around you help you, because you know we can. Merlin, letting people in, letting emotion out, that doesn't make you weaker, or any less of a person. It makes you stronger than ever. Because you have to know," he made sure Merlin was looking at him, "that you are not alone, and you never will be. No matter what lies Drin told you, we're your family, and we will never, ever leave you." He emphasized every word, he needed Merlin to understand that he meant all of it, every single thing. "When you were out of your mind with pain and exhaustion, back in that sodding tower, the one thing you kept talking about, the one thing keeping you sane was Camelot and the idea of going home. You beat him, Merlin. I'm not letting you think otherwise, or letting Drin take your home from you from beyond the grave. You're staying put, and that's final."

"That an order, is it?" Merlin scoffed, but really, he wanted to cry. He wanted to dissolve into a mess of tears but he managed to keep enough composure not to embarrass himself in front of Arthur. Instead he pursed his lips, took a breath and smiled at the king. A real, genuine smile, much more than he'd given him for weeks. It told Arthur more than Merlin could begin to say, a thousand words, apologies, thanks – all portrayed through one, real beaming smile.

"Like you've ever done what you've been ordered to." Arthur shrugged, matching his grin. They'd never had a dialogue like that before, expressed feeling like that before, and it felt like both of them could take a breath and talk to each other again. "Look, all I'm telling you to do is let us in, telling us how you feel, if you're having a bad day. And no more lies, okay? Please Merlin, the truth from now on."

"The truth." Merlin nodded, two fingers crossed behind his back. There were some things he'd fix himself before anyone needed to know the truth. It wasn't as if he enjoyed lying, but after all this time, secrets were what he held on to. They were the things he had to himself, things that he didn't have to share with anyone else. He'd never realised before – he wasn't Merlin if he didn't have a secret.

"Look, it's not going to get better overnight, we both know that," Arthur smiled reassuringly, "but it will get better. And we'll all be here to make sure it does."

"You just don't want to train another servant." Merlin sniffed through a smile, a few drops of liquid running down his cheek.

"Well there is that." Arthur grinned. "The other servant I've had this past few weeks made me realise you're not as awful at your duties as I thought."

"Careful sire, that was almost a compliment."

* * *

 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter, it was time for some honesty on both sides, and I could write some (hopefully) really emotional stuff.**

 **I have a Merlin one-shot that's close to publishing, one that's a hell of a lot lighter than the OSAW & OMAK stories, so if you're interested in that and other uploads be sure to follow me.**

 **Reviews = author happiness.**


	9. Of Guilt and Failure

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Ahhh this flaming chapter. I'm still not happy with it, but after weeks of writing I wanted to just get it out there.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

Arthur was sat alone in the council room, the lords long since departed after the commotion of earlier. He toyed with a scrap a fabric between his fingers, his mind lost in thought. There was still so much to process since his conversation with Merlin – a hundred thoughts, a hundred questions, and very few answers. How had he not spotted something was wrong with him earlier? They'd been back so long, and Merlin had become more and more withdrawn with every passing day, he'd stayed pale and tired, with purple bags underneath his haunted, far-away eyes. He was truly an idiot – anyone who took one look at the warlock should've been able to see that he wasn't getting better, and instead of doing _something_ , Arthur had left him to fade away. Today should not have been the first time he noticed that Merlin wasn't Merlin, especially with Gwen implying he'd been even worse when she'd found him.

Was this Merlin on a good day? How much worse could he possibly get?

Of course he wouldn't immediately bounce back. Arthur relied on his servant to come back from anything thrown at him with a laugh and a smile, no matter what hardship they'd faced. Merlin was the rock in a thousand stormy oceans. Except this time, he wasn't. He'd been _tortured_. He'd watched men come back from war, come back from being held prisoner with the kind of wounds Merlin had endured, and never been themselves again. Some spoke nothing but gibberish, some lived their lives in fear.

 _Others couldn't face theirs anymore._

He never thought for a second Merlin would be one of those men. No, he was _Merlin_. He was the person that pushed the king's curtains open with a gleeful grin at ungodly hours, the person that distracted him on hunts so he'd miss whatever would otherwise be a certain shot, the person that made him smile even in his darkest hours. Merlin couldn't be that person.

Except he was.

The fear in his eyes was the same as those other men. Arthur sometimes forgot, especially as of late, that Merlin was just as fragile as any other man. Magic and loyalty and bravery, whilst they made his friend who he was, didn't make him indestructible. In fact, it was because of those traits that he was now suffering the consequences. Anyone with even an ounce less of courage and allegiance would've faltered under that monster, but Merlin kept going through it all and he didn't deserve to now have his mind splitting into pieces.

He'd speak to Gaius. They'd go through every book lining those shelves, and if needs be every book in the library to find some remedy. There had to be a mix of herbs or minerals that could alleviate Merlin's fright. There just had to be. He would not lose Merlin, even if he himself gave up, Arthur would not. He'd fight for Merlin as he had done with Gwaine, as he had done with Arrington, as he should've done with Drin. They'd bring the old Merlin back one way or another.

Arthur sniffed, his eyes glassy. This wasn't fair. None of it was fair. He was the king, he was supposed to be the one tortured for information; the one who'd lay down his life for his kingdom. Merlin had never signed up for this. He was just a servant who Arthur had dragged out with him for the fun of it one day, and never stopped. Until now.

' _Well, you could start by telling me why in god's name Merlin is lying in that bed right now.'_

They'd been the first words Gaius had spoken to him upon their return, the accusation in his voice evident. Merlin shouldn't have been out there, even with the (unknown to him) protection of his magic. Why was he there? It was a patrol, it was a job for trained knights. Merlin had no combat training, no endurance training, nothing. He didn't even have any fucking armour. Of course something like this would've happened sooner or later, and it was _all his fault_.

He'd never forgive himself if Merlin couldn't come back.

Arthur had never doubted Merlin's strength before. Whilst his physical strength had been a subject of great humour for him and the knights before, his perseverance and resilience were something to be admired. But he had such a long, difficult road ahead, even if the king was determined to see him to the end of it. He didn't know what to do, how to help, how to make sure Merlin knew they weren't giving up on him, no matter what.

Arthur fought back the wetness in his eyes as he clutched at the material in his hands, looking down at what would forever be a constant reminder of his cowardice.

The bloody remains of a neckerchief.

* * *

Across the castle from the King and his thoughts, two shadowy figures were once again meeting under the fading light of the torch glow.

"Well, that was a failure of biblical proportions." Arrington was pacing up and down, sweaty hands clasped behind his back. It literally could not have gone worse for him. Not only had he failed to convince the king there was something up with his servant, he'd got himself essentially fired from the council, a job he'd had for eons.

"Did you think he was just going to change his mind after five minute and one council meeting? He's had years with Merlin. It's not surprising the king hasn't shifted his position at all." The second figure stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, a cold contrast to the perspiring lord.

"But he has shifted mine! I'm now excluded from the council, god knows what else he's going to take from me." He placed a quivering hand up to his face in deep thought. He knew the younger Pendragon was softer than his predecessor, he'd be in a cell right now if he'd tried to pull any such stunt with Uther, but he could still be punished for speaking out of turn. He could lose his land, possibly banished to another.

"You were going to lose that seat any day now. At least you're contributing something, rather than pontificating in front of your followers." The figure shrugged, the amount he cared about the noble's plight evident on his relaxed face.

"And how are you so sure of that?" Arrington sneered with a pout, pointing a finger in the direction of his accomplice.

"Because I know the King. I know he has no time for your nonsense, not like his predecessor." The figure looked at Arrington with distaste. "Believe me, you are no friend of mine." He turned to leave.

"Then why am I helping you remove the servant?" Arrington called after him, his arms thrown outwards in exasperation.

"For Camelot," He spun around slowly, standing taller than the small man, "because you care about protecting her from those that bring… bad influences into the court." A sad grimace crossed his features, and something akin to regret shone in his eyes.

"But why the servant?" His brow was crumpled onto a look of pure perplexity. "I understand he is close to the king, and you said before, he has the king's ear, but he is of little note to anyone. The king seems to almost… care for him," a sneer crossed Arrington's lips, "but he has been in his employ for many years, so that is somewhat understandable. The boy though is an idiot. Why do you care so much?"

"There are things that you don't understand, that you don't need to know." Once more the figure tried to leave, keen to be away from the whole sordid business he was conducting. There was always the risk of being caught in these corridors, be it by a friend or careless maid, but he could not afford to have anyone see him out here in the gloom – especially with the red-faced lord.

"I should know everything if our plan is to succeed."

"Our plan?" He chuckled softly. "You," he let out a breath, "don't know the half of what goes on around here. It seems none of us truly do. You'd do well to keep your nose out of affairs that need not concern you, especially considering your… precarious position within Camelot. The king's been looking for a reason to get rid of you for a long time now, and you've just given him one. You know what they say, two birds one stone."

"You knew I was in danger of losing my place at the council, and you had me agitate the king?" He was growing redder by the second, his voice as loud as she could shout without raising alarm.

"Your politics contrast with everything King Arthur stands for. I don't like you, I don't like what you stand for, but you were useful in talking to him one final time."

With that the figure finally left the scene, strolling calmly down the corridor whilst the infuriated lord fumed behind him.

* * *

Arthur was still lost in thought, clutching at Merlin's bloodied scarf, when he was roused by the firm, steady knocking at the door, unmistakably a guard's knock.

He folded the strip of cloth back up and placed it in his pocket, where it had lived for the past month, ever since he'd absentmindedly picked it up off Drin's floor as he'd carried a semi-conscious Merlin out of the building. He didn't know why he'd grabbed it, it was useless as a garment with its shredded cuts, and it had been enveloped by the blood that had pooled at Merlin's feet from the stab wound on his back.

It was a piece of Merlin though. Maybe somewhere deep down in Arthur's subconscious he'd realised Merlin wouldn't be the same again, their relationship would never be the same – now so many things were out in the open – and he'd kept the neckerchief to hold onto their lives before the tower. When they were nothing more than master and servant.

Arthur shook his head. They'd long since moved on from that, they were friends though neither stubborn fool would admit it. And friends always had each other's backs, so Arthur kept the piece of Merlin's past to remind himself that Merlin had always had his back, even when he'd turned his on the warlock.

"Come in." Arthur stood to receive the guard. The door opened and one of the regular gatekeepers stood before him.

"My lord." He nodded his head in respect as he entered the room, a frown cutting deep into his features. He looked puzzled, which could only mean one thing coming from a gatekeeper. They had an unexpected guest.

"Yes?" Arthur matched the guard's expression, tapping his fingers on the table.

"There's an elderly man here to see you, he says it's urgent." Still his brow conveyed the confusion both he and Arthur were feeling.

"Did he give you his name?" Arthur squinted, raising an eyebrow. He knew there was no planned arrivals in Camelot for at least a month, and it would take a major event for one of his subjects to speak directly to him. He really hoped in wasn't some demonic force terrorising villages – he had enough to deal with at present.

"He only introduced himself as Petch, sire, says he's from the lowlands and you'll know who he is. Apparently, it's important."

* * *

 **So, Arrington is one half of the figures who are plotting, but who is the other? And why is Petch in Camelot? So many questions…**

 **Apologies if the scenes seem to be a but jumpy, I'm currently playing whack-a-mole with the storylines and having trouble writing multiple different plots in a single chapter, I'm still trying to find my way through having more characters and sets to write with. There's bits of the writing I really like, but some of it feels a little sloppy. If anyone has any writing tips they'd like to share that'd be awesome.**


	10. Of Friends and Enemies

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Hello everyone! I do appreciate the long gaps between chapters, but college is wrapping up for the summer as we speak, so that should speed things up a bit.**

 **As ever, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The guard stood patiently, clearly waiting for Arthur to deny knowing the man at the gate so he could remove him as quickly as possible.

"He's a friend of Camelot." Arthur murmured, a frown set into his features, alongside a worried contemplation. "Why on earth-?" His voice was low and questioning, his query seemingly directed more towards himself than the guard.

"My lord?" The guard started, not usually one to question orders, but in this case the king's comment had made little sense. He could think of no reason this seemingly ordinary man would be considered a 'friend' of Camelot. From the way he was dressed, he was clearly not nobility, nor did he seems to have status of any kind.

"Bring him up immediately." Arthur motioned to the door, then ran a hand through his hair as he began to pace slowly.

"Er, very well sire." The man gave the king once last puzzled look, then turned on his heel and barked an order to a fellow soldier further down the corridor, his instruction bouncing and reverbing off the walls.

Arthur's pacing grew a little more frantic as the guard left him to contemplate why the physician would be in Camelot, and especially why he was in an urgent need to speak to him. From what little he'd gathered about Petch whilst they were in Redferran, he wasn't one to just leave his small community. Those villagers relied on him, from cuts to broken bones, he was their healer, no one else. If he'd come all the way out to Camelot, something must be seriously wrong.

"Arthur!" Petch almost fell into the room, moving at a pace no man of his age should. He was draped in a pale grey cloak that looked well-worn, if the patchwork mends were anything to go by, and had a small leather satchel slung round his side. His shoulder length wispy hair was blown around wildly, presumably from the ride to Camelot, and his spectacles were perched askew on his nose.

"Petch," Arthur half forced a smile, slowing his worried gait to greet Petch warmly. "It's good to see you." It had not been a month since they were under his supervision, but during their brief stay Petch had quite literally been a lifesaver, and Arthur wondered if he could ever repay the physician for his kindness. Though in all honesty he'd assumed their paths would never cross again, and somewhat hoped; he was a tie to their ordeal, and a reminder they did not need nor want. "However, I fear this is not a social call." He let his smile fall; the worry in heart forming a lump in his throat. There had to be a reasonable explanation, and not some world-altering news. They could take no more of that.

"I came the moment I heard; I just had to tell you..." Petch wheezed out, unable to catch his breath having hurried from his horse all the way to up the council room, desperate to meet with the king. His elderly frame was not designed for such movement at such speed, and it was showing as he looked close to collapse.

"Come, sit down." Arthur showed the physician to one of the seats at the council's table, concerned he may pass out if left to stand a moment longer. He let the man rest for a pause, until his breathing had slowed and evened out, and his wheezing had all but gone. "Now," Arthur tried his best to keep a casual tone to his voice, and iron out the worry, "what is so urgent?"

He braced himself for the next word out of Petch's mouth, wishing it to be any but the one he heard.

"Drin." Petch finally breathed out, regretfully. "There's been a sighting of him, on the border between the Lowlands and Essetir, a most worrying location." He clasped his hands and rested his chin on them; his demure demeanour suggesting that he was most remorseful of having to share the news with the king.

"You are sure?" Arthur caught his breath. It was all he could do to stop himself screaming at everything and everyone that met his gaze. This was the last thing anyone had expected, _needed_ , to hear. They'd all assumed he'd died when Merlin had pulled down the tower; buried under the rubble of bricks and bad memories, but the old bastard was a cunning snake. They should've known better than to assume his demise. "We all thought him dead." All, including Merlin.

God this would break him.

"The source is reliable," Petch ruefully grimaced, "A friend of our villages, he's a Lord in Essetir, perhaps you know of him, Lord Geowin?" Arthur nodded in recognition. He was famously one of the few amicable nobles to live under Cenred's rule, and survive; the man was often a go-between for Camelot and Essetir, it was little wonder he also prospered in the lowlands. The man somehow excelled at diplomacy between all worlds, and lived a fairly peaceful life. "The word is that Drin has been recruiting men of little means, even less brain, but not lacking in brawn." He scoffed, though Arthur picked up a noticeable change in the way Petch was speaking about him this time. Whilst in Redferran he'd derided him as a delusional fool, he seemed a lot less certain in that diagnosis right now.

"He's started his campaign again, and if he's in Essetir there's no doubt he's also still in leagues with Cenred." Arthur rubbed at his tired eyes, his brain beginning to go into meltdown.

Today had been one of the most mentally taxing in his life; he'd started the day thinking all he had to deal with was one minor council meeting, and instead he'd had an ear-bashing from Gwen, another from Gwaine, the disastrous meeting with the council – who it turned out could quite easily form a lynch mob, fired one of his oldest Lords, consoled a visibly shaken Merlin who had revealed some terrible truths, and now he was learning that there was a maniacal warlord risen from the dead.

One day. Just one bloody day where nothing went wrong.

"Talk amongst folk is that he's headed for Camelot." Petch looked visibly uncomfortable at this, and Arthur knew there was something he was holding back.

"He'd be a fool to do so," Arthur scoffed derisively, "a handful of men alone cannot overthrow her walls." There was no way Drin and one or two bandits would be able to fight off Camelot's defences. He'd captured them all because they were caught unawares and were overpowered and slightly outnumbered, but an attack on the city would have to be strategic, not one of Drin's moments of opportunity. He'd station some extra guards around the gate for safe measure.

"No," Petch sighed, looking even more unwilling to continue, "but a very powerful sorcerer can." He'd lowered his voice so only Arthur could hear; despite being alone, he didn't trust speaking above a whisper when it came to discussing magic, especially in Camelot and especially with a Pendragon, no matter how open he'd seemed last time.

"What do you mean?" Arthur leaned in closer towards Petch. Surely, he couldn't mean Merlin, what kind of ridiculous notion was that? "Petch, I trust Merlin more than anything. He would never, ever betray me or Camelot like that." How could Petch even think that? He'd _seen_ how much Merlin had refused Drin, he'd seen his loyalty in the wounds across his torso and fever on his brow. No, Petch was mistaken if he thought the warlock would ever collude with the madman.

"Arthur, the man's insane, he always has been." Petch implored. "If he thinks Merlin can win him Camelot, then he will stop at nothing to have him at his side. Nothing. Not to mention the lad escaped him once, Drin's now going to treat this as some sort of wicked game. The collapse of the tower's supposedly left him disfigured, and people are saying that the accident has made him crazier than ever before, if that's even possible."

"Petch," Arthur shook his head, "Drin tortured Merlin for days on end, and he still promised nothing to man. What could he do to persuade Merlin if not the cruelty that he endured?" Though the thought of Merlin going through any more torture, any more pain, than he'd already endured made his blood boil, there was a part of him that knew Merlin would still not break. He definitely did not want his beliefs to be put to the test though.

"Think about it, the only leverage Drin had during your confinement was you and your lack of knowledge. He thought Merlin would turn to his ways when he saw your reaction to his magic." Arthur felt a sting in his heart every time he was reminded of it, but as Gwen had pointed out, he needed to stop making Merlin's ordeal about him, and his heavy laden conscious. "When he didn't, Drin lost all control, except for physical pain, which Merlin was never going to succumb to, he's stronger than that." Petch paused for a moment, clearly considering his next words. "But now? Now he has a whole city of leverage."

"You think he'd threaten to out Merlin's magic?" Arthur's horrified voice trembled with emotion.

It was an idea that had never dawned on his until that very moment, but the repercussions of it would be severe. He didn't know how he'd protect Merlin if news about his magic wasn't handled carefully or delicately, especially if it was Drin. The kingdom couldn't just deal with the idea of benevolent magic overnight, they'd need to be brought around to the idea with laws and rulings. The thought of how to present Merlin's magic to the masses, in such a public manner, had given him more than one sleepless night. He knew it wasn't fair to keep it a secret forever, not that Merlin asked for praise ever, but Arthur wanted him to be able to be who he was wherever he was, he wouldn't have him skulking around in the shadows any longer.

"I'm sure of it. He had no qualms revealing his magic to you." Arthur thought back to the moment that had changed everything. To reveal his magic in such a heroic manner, saving his life from a sword that would've certainly run him through otherwise, to have that scorned and rejected was one of the cruellest punishments of all. Drin could've done anything to showcase Merlin's magic, he could've simply said the words 'Merlin has magic' (not that Arthur would've particularly believed him though), but having Arthur throwaway Merlin's most pure and selfless magic should've been a killing blow. Merlin was amazing for surviving that kind of mental torture.

"No, he did not." Arthur said quietly.

"The rumour mill is rife in the lower towns and villages, all he has to do is mention it to one person, who will spread it like wildfire, then all it takes is one of the higher ups to hear it, and before you know it, you've got a lynching on your hands." Arthur turned ice cold, the memory of not more than three hours ago still burning in his mind, how quickly they'd suggested sacking Merlin for a slight absence of his duties. If some of them understood he'd got magic, the results would be catastrophic.

"I've no way of stopping something like that, what do I do?" Arthur whispered, his mind frozen. Short of hunting the bastard down and running him through with his sword, as appealing as that sounded, Arthur couldn't do much about him, especially shutting him up about Merlin and his magic.

"My advice?" Petch leant back in his chair. "Get Merlin to go to Drin willingly." He countered with a wry smile. "Simple," He clarified, not understanding why the king was glaring at him, "you let Drin believe he has the upper hand; that Merlin's on his side. Then Merlin can take him down from the inside when he least suspects it." Petch held his hands out like it was the most obvious plan in the world.

"There are a few flaws in that plan, Petch." Arthur covered his face with his hands, letting out a muffled sigh. "One, why would Drin believe that Merlin changed his mind all of a sudden? He tortured him and Merlin wasn't even close to breaking, so why now would he just willingly join him? Two," Arthur pondered whether he should go on, but Petch was a friend, and he'd come all this way to give them forewarning, it was only fair he was truthful back, "Drin scares Merlin much more than we realise, it could do him a lot more harm than good putting him in that close proximity to Drin." Arthur didn't even know how he was going to tell Merlin Drin was back, there was no way he could even suggest to him to infiltrate his inner circle. "And three, Merlin had a chance to kill Drin before, and I stopped him."

"You believe he won't go through with it?" Petch frowned. He thought the lad would be wanting revenge more than anyone, he knew if he'd been on the receiving end of such severe wounding he'd want the man responsible to pay, never mind his Hippocratic oath.

"Part of me does." Arthur looked rueful for a moment, his face turning dark. "Part of me also worries that he will."

"I don't follow." Petch pushed his spectacle up his nose.

"Killing a man, even a snake such as Drin, it changes you." He knew only too well how it changed people. Though the job of a knight, and to some degree a prince, and then a king, was to uphold valour, it didn't always make killing easier. "Merlin's mind is precarious to say the least since we returned. He's jumpy, and I'm sure he's not sleeping nor is he eating properly. There was an… incident today and I found him sat on the floor of the corridor. He's not good Petch, and having Drin's death to deal with, by his own hand directly, would tip him over the teetering edge for certain."

"I see." Petch stroked the hairs on his chin thoughtfully. "The mind is fragile, almost like glass. It can fracture easily, and is most difficult to repair once damaged." He concluded. "Especially with torture victims." Arthur couldn't help but cringe at hearing Merlin referred to as a victim. He was trying as hard as he could to keep the thought of Merlin before Drin nearly broke him alive in his mind, determined they'd get that Merlin back. "To put him in a situation with Drin, I agree, that would be extremely detrimental to his health. Not that I have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, mind you."

"You understand why I cannot carry through your plan now?" Arthur bemoaned. If only things were as simple as Petch thought they were.

"I do Arthur. And I know whatever you decide to do, it'll be the right choice. You're a good king, and you're an even better friend." He put a fatherly hand on Arthur's shoulder, giving him a warm smile for the first time since he'd staggered into the council room.

"Thank you Petch, and I cannot thank you enough for bringing us this information so we can prepare for… whatever it may be that faces us."

"There is nothing to thank. Merlin's a fighter, I learnt that in Redferran. He'll recover, just you wait and see. With all of you around him, he has all the support he needs." Petch sat up, a wistful look in his eye. "Now, is there somewhere I could get a bowl of something hot? An old man can't manage for too long on an empty stomach, you know." He laughed, as his stomach let out an audible rumble.

"Of course." Arthur stood, and helped Petch to his feet, the old man removing his cloak and draping it over his arm. The king then began walking with him in the direction of the guest rooms. "When do you plan to return to Redferran?"

"Eager to be rid of me already?" Petch jested. "I was hoping to stay the night in Camelot; the mare I rode here can't handle another ride today, nor can I for that matter." He still looked terribly winded, and his hair was still a wild mop of white locks. "I must return to Redferran soon though, I've left one of the lads in charge of the apothecary, and between you me, he's not the best." He let out a gentle laugh.

"Then it's settled," Arthur smiled, "I'll arrange a room for you in the castle."

"Thank you, your majesty." Petch nodded. "You'll see no arguments from me." Again, his stomach began to growl. "Not to belay the subject, but…"

"I'll talk to the kitchen as well." Arthur grinned. "Until then, I believe Gaius, our physician, is eager to meet you. I'm sure he will want to thank you personally for everything you did to help Merlin."

"I but offered what little treatment I could." Petch shrugged humbly.

"Still, Merlin is like a son to Gaius, and we are all grateful of your help." There's no way Merlin would've made it on foot towards Camelot with nothing but water and strips of makeshift bandages, had it not been for Redferran, and Petch, and Arthur truly wanted to show his appreciation whilst the physician was here.

* * *

 **So we now have some answers, but perhaps some more questions?**

 **Thank you to everyone who is sticking with this story, and it's about to get REAL interesting very soon.**


	11. Of Guardians and Clashes

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

… **Um, hi.**

 **I disappeared. There's no excuse.**

 **I got stuck with the writing, I got real busy… okay there's a few excuses, but not great ones.**

 **I have a few chapters lined up that will definitely be uploaded this week. And I'm telling you this so I can't back out, and so I have people holding me accountable.**

* * *

"So you're telling me," Gwaine paused for a moment, his hand resting underneath his chin, and a disbelieving smile plastered across his lips, "that the fucking bastard's not dead? That a tower toppling down on top of his head didn't kill him?" Still donning his armour from a patrol he'd been part of, the knight's free hand was fiddling with weight at the handle of his sword, which was sheathed and slung across his hip.

"As much as I wish it had," Arthur shook his head, his eyes askance as he glanced out of the archway they stood by, as if he was searching for Drin's presence amongst the people down below, "he's still out there Gwaine."

"Right." Gwaine calmly stood to attention, straightening his shirt. "Let's go." He made to dash down the corridor at an alarmingly brisk pace, but Arthur caught his arm just in the nick of time.

"What are you talking about?" His voice was no more than a harsh whisper as he scanned Gwaine's eyes for any sign of a thought or plan.

"I don't know about you," he scoffed, an unsettling grin still on his lips, his voice calm, "but I'm going to find him, and then I'm going to hurt him in every way he hurt Merlin, then and only then, will I give that fucking bastard the mercy of death!" His voice had grown to that of a shout, and the glare in his eyes was something Arthur had never seen of the roguish knight, even scaring him a little.

"You can't just march out of Camelot and kill him!" The king tried to reason with him, but all sense of reason had left Gwaine the minute he'd heard about the return of that monster. _He_ didn't deserve to breath for one single day longer, and Gwaine was going to make sure he'd be the one to end it.

"Watch me." He growled, trying to shrug off Arthur; not having the patience nor the desire to have a moral discussion, especially not with Arthur.

"Gwaine!" Arthur barked under his breath, grabbing the knight's shoulder. Gwaine was taken aback by this, somewhat unaccustomed to the kingly voice he'd been subjected to, despite the amount of times he'd successfully managed to piss Arthur off, something of a hobby of his. "We have to handle this properly." His tone had softened a little. "We don't even know where he is."

"We know he's near the lowlands, and let's be honest, they're not that big, are they? Bastard's probably got a cloud of evil or something following him around." Gwaine waved his hands in the air for emphasis. "I'm sure I can find him." He tried once more to get Arthur to relinquish his shoulder, but the king held firm on his grip.

"We're _not_ going off on a wild goose chase after him." He was struggling to understand why Gwaine was being so willingly blind to the circumstances. By the time they'd successfully tracked Drin to a location, he could've easily moved on, or easily overpowered them if they were as underprepared as they were last time.

"What are we supposed do then?" Gwaine scoffed, "wait for him to come after Merlin like Petch predicted? Do you know how bad that would be for everyone?" He raised his eyebrows at Arthur, daring him to challenge him, to prove him wrong. "Screw waiting! There is absolutely nothing to discuss about this. You _saw_ what he did to Merlin, how can you just stand there whilst he's alive and breathing?"

"You think it's easy?" Arthur's voice caught in his throat. "You don't think the minute I heard I wanted to ride out and hunt him down? Tear him limb from limb for what he did?" The anger was palpable in his words as he fought to contain them.

"Then why don't you?" Gwaine pushed, though he'd backed off the king a little.

"Because…" Arthur grimaced, toying with how much to tell Gwaine. "I can't leave Merlin, not now."

"What do you mean?" He narrowed his eyes, "You've spoken to him?"

"He's not himself at the moment." Arthur fumbled for words. Merlin had entrusted him with this, but he wasn't telling just anyone, this was Gwaine. And you could rely on Gwaine to find out anything, especially stuff he wasn't meant to know.

"Arthur, he hasn't been himself for a month," he pushed closer, "I know this. What did he tell you?" Peering at Arthur earnestly, Gwaine held the king's gaze.

"It's Drin." Arthur relented. He really didn't want to tell Gwaine, but he knew the knight. Now he'd picked up on something he would absolutely not let it go until Arthur told him the truth. "Drin's still in his head." He breathed, gritting his teeth. It pained him to admit it, admit that Merlin was still damaged from their captivity, admit that his mind had been broken along with his body. And it was all down to him.

"Bastard. The utter, bloody, stupid bastard couldn't stay dead, could he? Not literally, not even figuratively!" Gwaine's temper was rising to unparalleled heights as he balled his hands into fists, and Arthur actually considered ducking for a moment, in case he decided to lash out and strike whatever was in front of him. Instead, Arthur caught his arm once more mid-rant, making sure he could look him in the eye.

"It's reckless to just go after him. We have the word of Lord Geowin that he's… around, that he's getting soldiers together, but we've no idea about numbers or plans or manoeuvres and if he outnumbers us again…" the thought of being back in Drin's proximity, never mind his prisoner, was stomach churning enough to calm Gwaine down, even a small amount.

"I can't just sit around and do nothing." He screwed up his eyes in frustration, turning from the King.

"I know it's difficult, but that's all we can do." Arthur sighed. "I'll send scouts, I'll get reports, but we cannot go charging in there with our eyes closed, do you understand me?" His was as earnest as possible, he would not allow the madman to get away unscathed, and they would find him. And then he'd be punished. Whatever the hell would be the punishment for what he did; Arthur was not usually one to seek grim executions, however, he'd make an exception for Drin.

"You better." Gwaine simply grimaced, his eyes still ablaze with fury.

"My lord." The captain of the guards nodded his head in deference as he approached the pair. "Sir Gwaine." He added, almost as an afterthought.

"We're not done with this conversation. I promise you that." Arthur let his arm drop from Gwaine's, turning to address the guard. "Yes?"

"We've had reports coming in throughout the lower town, there's some kind of creature attacking the farms towards the border with the Lowlands." He breathed, and Arthur thought he detected the smallest amount of excitement in the guard's voice. Very little had happened since the ensuing chaos following their disappearance, something the king was grateful of, not having the energy to deal with any kind of outside problems. It seemed the guards thought differently.

"Great, this is just what I needed." Arthur sighed, holding his hands on his hips. "I'll ride out with a patrol as soon as possible."

"Very well sire," he nodded, "I'll send word to the grooms, five horses?"

"Six. Merlin's coming with us." Gwaine raised an eyebrow at this, but said nothing, heading quietly off to grab his armour and sword, and alert the other's they were needed. Arthur spun on his heel, heading off to find his manservant, wherever he may be.

* * *

"Gaius, have you seen Merlin?" Arthur strode, albeit somewhat quietly, into the physician's chambers. "I need him for-"

"He's not going with you." Gaius, who was sat at the table eating a plate of bread and cheese, cut him off bluntly. He'd cast a single glance up at Arthur, before returning to the plate.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Arthur let out an unconvincingly ignorant laugh, but he should've know better than to try and lie to Gaius, who simply glared at him.

"I'm not an idiot, Arthur." He chided. "You are half dressed in armour," he motioned to Arthur's very obvious battle attire, "you're clearly going somewhere outside of Camelot, and whatever it is you're going off to do, Merlin is having no part in it." He stood to take his plate away.

"Why not?" He closed the door to the quarters, leaning against it, arms crossed like a child. "He says he's fit enough." He wouldn't even begin to consider Merlin for something like his if he thought he wasn't up to it, but after Merlin had finally opened up to him, he felt like he needed to try and bring some sense of normalcy back to their lives.

And for Arthur and Merlin, riding out far into the heart of Camelot and fighting some unnatural creature spawned of magic _was_ normal for them.

"Do you just expect me to patch him up every time he comes home like he did?" Gaius' words were cutting, keeping his voice on the edge of restraint. Arthur hadn't heard the old man speak with such passion in a long time, but he could feel it. Merlin was a son in everything but blood to him, and he spoke as a father should. "Because I _can't_ ," His words caught in his throat, tight with emotion and almost cracking, "none of us are strong enough to go through that again."

"He'll be fine." It was a lame answer to such a powerful message, and a mantra Arthur seemed to have adopted as of late. When it came to Merlin, apparently denial was his go-to emotion. Convincing himself that Merlin would be fine, whether about his injuries, his mind or his future wellbeing, Arthur always had to assure himself that he would not be without his friend.

"Like he was last time?" Gaius finally looked up at Arthur. He seemed so tired, and worn, and the lines in his face appeared to be etched deeper than ever. He hadn't thought of Gaius, he'd just assumed that everything would revert to how it had been before they disappeared, but the physician had obviously been worrying about Merlin as much, if not more, than they had.

"Gaius-" Arthur tried, but he was not nearly done yet.

"Can you guarantee that that will never happen to him again? That there will never be another Drin around the corner? Because I can, by keeping him safe." He stood firm, eyes narrowing at Arthur. "He's not going on any more patrols, or hunting trips, or quests." Arthur let out a short, disbelieving laugh, until he realised Gaius wasn't kidding, he meant every word he'd said.

"You can't-" He started, frowning. Merlin was a part of his everyday life, he had been for years and Gaius had never spoken out about the two of them leaving Camelot on such a regular basis. In fact, he'd even been the one to poke fun at Merlin's dishevelled form being hurried to a horse for an incredibly early patrol. Perhaps that was part of it though, in the past Gaius had been so willing to let Merlin go, and now he was trying to atone for that.

"Oh, can't I?" He raised a brow. "He's my boy and if I want to protect him then I will. I won't lose him, not again." The faraway look was back in his eyes, the one Gwen had described to him. He'd been like that for most of the time they'd been lost, present and there in the room, but his eyes were as if he wasn't. She'd made sure he was eating, and also sent him to bed most nights, though she realised very quickly that while he agreed to retire to his room, he did not sleep.

Arthur wondered if his father had ever felt that loss for him, truly as a son, and not just as an heir to carry on their dynasty. He hoped he had, but there was always doubt in his mind whenever he thought of his father as his father, and not as his king.

"I'm sorry Gaius, it's not your call." Arthur hated to do this, he really did. But this was what Merlin wanted, and he'd made it abundantly clear that he could stand no more babying or coddling or people treating him differently. This was Arthur's way of proving that could listen to Merlin, and he could help him how he wanted to be helped. "He's my servant and if I-"

"You're pulling rank?" Gaius' expression of hurt hit Arthur like a blow to the stomach. He wasn't his father, he didn't place his judgement above others just because he was born higher, but this time it wasn't his own judgement, it was Merlin's. "This is me, Arthur, and you're ordering me to stop worrying about Merlin? To stop caring if he goes out there and gets killed one day? Because that is an order I will defy a thousand times over." The physician could be stubborn at the best of times, but he was an immovable force when it came to Merlin.

"You can't cage him just because of some lunatic. He needs-"

"Don't you dare tell me what Merlin does or doesn't need." Uther may have been the king, and the one giving speeches to immense crowds, but Gaius had mastered the very octaves to command a room throughout his years. "I will tell _you_ what he doesn't need and that is to be recklessly endangered, because you are the king and he is your servant. Not a knight, or a nobleman, but your servant and he doesn't need to go on every single trip with you. I shouldn't have to tell you that Merlin is not himself, I've never seen him in such a way before. He tries so hard to hide it from all of us, he's always tried hard, but lately he's having to put so much effort into just keeping up appearances, it's easy to see the cracks forming."

"You blame me for what happened." Arthur blanched, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Not for the most part, no." Gaius sighed, his eyeline anywhere but at the king. "You didn't take a knife or a boot to him, you didn't hurt him, that was Drin and his brutes. And yes, I understand it was Merlin's choice to go with you, it is always Merlin's choice," he scoffed ruefully, "but you left him, Arthur. You let him think he was alone and that is what's damaged him most. The fact he thought that everyone had left him and _that_ is on you. There's damage that can't be undone, no matter how many times you apologise for it."

"I have to go." The king turned away from Gaius, unable to find any counteracting words, and opened the door.

"Arthur…" Gaius warned.

"I'm going to find Merlin, Gaius." Arthur's voice was soft but firm, ending the rest of the conversation. "We're leaving shortly, it'll do him good. I promise you I will look after him." Before the physician could argue another word, Arthur had left the chambers, the door swinging shut behind him.

"If only I knew you could keep that." Gaius muttered. If he'd been sprightlier on his feet he would've chased after him, but perhaps the king was right. Maybe he was being overprotective, but he couldn't bear to see his ward bleeding and half-dead one more time. "Stay safe, you foolish boy."

* * *

 **Chapter 12 shall be published within a few days if I can get the editing down.**


	12. Of Secrets and Strife

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Little bit later than expected, but it was just because this chapter is so long so the editing and revisions took slightly longer than I thought.**

 **Thank you everyone who left lovely messages on the last update welcoming me back, as well as people who left reviews before I did come back. It's always really nice to know people are still interested in/reading your work.**

* * *

Arthur had found Merlin down in the armoury, along with Elyan and Percival. Polishing was one of the few chores he could manage quite easily, placing the breast plate or sword or gauntlet in the crook of his right arm, so his shoulder wasn't straining too much, then polish with his left hand. He could also sit on one of the benches while he worked, which was a nice change of pace.

The two knights were having some kind of competition in the background, which involved putting on a piece of armour as quickly as they could, then removing it even quicker. Elyan was seemingly having trouble attaching a plate to his calf, by which time Percival had successfully removed his. He held his arms up, signalling him victorious, and laughed deeply as he clapped the less triumphant Elyan on his back. Even Merlin was cracking a smile and a small laugh at their antics, especially when Elyan had called Merlin to umpire, claiming cheating was afoot, though how it was possible to cheat at attaching and removing armour from your leg was a mystery.

"Good to know my knights spend their time efficiently." The corners of Arthur's mouth quirked in amusement as he leant, arms folded, in the doorway. Neither knight had even the decency to look embarrassed about their actions, instead the large knight had begun collecting stray pieces of metal plating whilst the smaller joined Merlin on the bench, still muttering the word 'cheat' under his breath.

"It still counts as training." Percival had shrugged, with a sly grin on his lips.

"Oh yes. I'm sure removing your armour in a hurry is extremely important in some situations." The king returned Percival's nonchalance with a knowing smirk, to which Percival grew an increasingly bright shade of red, avoiding eye contact with everyone else in the room. "Sorry to cut – whatever this was – short, but one of the guards has just informed me there's trouble out towards the lower town. Some kind of creature."

"Any word on what it is?" Elyan looked up, though he didn't imagine Arthur held the answer. The only way Arthur ever knew was if Gaius would've told them about it once, one of the many times they'd huddled around his biblical book of magical enemies.

"No," Arthur shook his head, "that's why Merlin's coming with us." He cast a kindly smile in his direction, gesturing to a very bemused looking manservant.

Months ago, he would've simply told Merlin to fetch his stuff, no need to tell him he was coming with, but this was big, for both. They hadn't gone anywhere together since they came back. In the beginning, it had been that Merlin was simply too weak to go anywhere, shut away in Gaius' quarters to recuperate. Then he'd been taking things steady with his chores, not wanting to overexert himself. Arthur had imagined a few weeks into his return to work they'd be off gallivanting again, just him and Merlin, and everything could go back to _normal_.

Normal, though what did that word even mean anymore? It had become so overused between the two.

"You, what- uh, I… _huh_?" Merlin gaped at the king. He wasn't ready. He was nowhere near ready to go outside Camelot. He'd barely been outside of the castle walls during his recovery, and he'd spent the rest of his time trying to get back into a daily routine of chores and duties.

He would never say it out loud, but he did worry about going back outside. It was stupid really, he'd been in far worse situations in his life, he'd had far larger obstacles thrown at him, he'd defeated a witch of the old religion for god's sake, and here he was, afraid of an old man and his guard dogs. Even worse, a _dead_ old man. It was ridiculous, there was absolutely nothing to fear, so why did his stomach tie up in knots at the thought of it? Why did his ears buzz and palms go clammy just thinking of Drin?

"It'll be fine Merlin, don't worry." Arthur smiled reassuringly at him again, breaking through the funk building in his brain. "We'll ride out, we'll assess the situation, and take it from there, okay? Horses are waiting for us out front. Everything's good."

"Uh…" Merlin seemed to disagree, at least everything in his screaming body did. There was a humming in his ears, his skin had turned a shade whiter and his stomach was doing little somersaults. He wasn't ready. _Or could he be?_ Maybe if he just pushed himself, just put one foot in front of the other, he'd be fine. Perhaps it was just the apprehension of leaving, that once he was on his way he'd feel fine. But this wasn't just a simple ride out, there was danger at the end of their path, and he didn't know if he could handle it. No, he _definitely_ couldn't handle it. "Arthur…" Merlin called out, his decision made, but the door was already swinging on his hinges.

Shit.

* * *

The horses stood aligned in their troop in the courtyard, primed with their saddles and ready for an adventure at a moment's notice. It wasn't something Merlin had ever really taken notice of before; he'd just climb on one of the stallions and they'd be off, sometimes all of them, sometimes just the two of them. Merlin usually felt different away from Camelot, as if he wasn't as restrained in his persona when they were out and about, that he could be slightly more carefree than usual.

That had all changed though.

The cool air felt refreshing as he stepped out into the courtyard, delicately illuminated with a spring sun. He hadn't been out an awful lot recently, and for a country boy, he'd longed for the feeling of the wind in his face and sun on his skin. It was as if the world had returned to normal, if only for a split second.

That was before images came flooding back to him, ones of a dusty village square and a kindly farmer, of horses all in a line like here, and _pain,_ all over, brutal, aching pain. The shock nearly made Merlin double over, but he caught himself, steadying against one of the pillars. He took a breath, and swallowed down the memories, before walking over to his steed. At least this time he'd get to ride by himself, not half-dead and slumped over Gwaine.

He'd been doing some preliminary checks over his horse before they left, just to ease his mind. He'd found himself kneeling by the side of the beast, checking every buckle and strap on each piece of kit, when a shadow cast over him, the figure placing one arm on the stallion to steady it. Merlin didn't even need to glance at them to tell who it was, the ever so slight stagger in the footsteps gave that away.

"What is it, Gwaine?" Merlin didn't look up as he obsessively continued to adjust the saddle.

"I know." His voice was firm as he stood by Merlin's side, unbudging, with his arms folded across his chest.

"Know what?" Merlin sighed, still not taking his eyes off his task.

"Don't." Gwaine let out a low growl. "I heard you and Gwen talking – I heard _everything_." At this, the warlock froze in his mission, and he let out a single breath. Gwaine saw the tension tighten in face, saw the frustration and the weariness eating away at him. "Don't bother lying to me." Gwaine grimaced, eyes askance into the distance. He was mad. Not a kind of rage induced bar-fight mad, but a kind of disappointed mad that weighed heavy on his heart and hurt him. Finally, Merlin frantically cast his eyes up to Gwaine, a look of panic and defeat on his features.

"Why do you always have to figure everything out? Why?" He whispered, mostly to himself, closing his eyes and leaning against his hands, still tight around the buckle. "First the magic, now the… _this_." He pulled back, rubbing at his eyes, then throwing a glance back up at Gwaine. "It's a- temporary change of circumstances. It'll be sorted soon enough." His stuttering, blatantly false answer sounded unconvincing even to Merlin, let alone Gwaine.

"When were you going to tell us?" Merlin's silence offered Gwaine the only answer he needed. "You weren't, were you?" The hurt was immediately palpable in the knight's voice as it caught in his throat, and he let out a short, rueful laugh. He shook his head, turning away from the warlock.

"I can't." Merlin had to bite back despair, his entire composure was extremely fragile and dangling from a single thread. There was no way he was about to lose it now, not as they were about to leave. The knight could never just leave anything alone, none of them ever could. Merlin was so terrified if he started unpicking every single fraying stitch then he would just unravel completely.

"We're your friends, Merlin." The slight pause on friends was more accusatory than anything else. "Have you forgotten that? I thought we weren't doing secrets anymore." Gwaine spat, his words laced with an angry pain, the desolation that his friend had lied to him, once again. "After _everything_."

"Look, as soon as-" Merlin tried to reason with him, keeping his tone soft and apologetic.

"No," He held up a hand, interrupting Merlin before he could spin them any more lines. "I'm not keeping this one a secret, mate. In the past I kept quiet to protect you. And I understood it then, it was dangerous for you and you needed that protection. But not this time, because now they need to know. So, either you tell them, or I will." He walked away without another word, and Merlin felt a crushing wave of guilt overtake him as he watched Gwaine leave. He'd never set out to hurt him, he'd never intentionally hurt any of them, but this was something he'd thought was best kept to himself. Maybe he _had_ been wrong to do so.

He stood up, feeling somewhat satisfied with the condition of the saddle, and let out a low, resigned breath. He spun around the ask the now irritated stable-hand if he actually had tightened the reigns properly for the third time that day, when he spied Arthur in the entranceway to the castle.

Arthur wasn't alone.

There stood Petch in his familiar grey cloak, smiling and waving the king off. That was it, that the final nail in the coffin of the day. His head felt like his thoughts had turned into cotton wool and his feet felt unsteady on what had been a perfectly flat piece of land before. His vision blurred in front of him, and he felt himself beginning to lose control.

 _Not now._

Visions of a house cluttered with medical supplies, the sound of a glass breaking somewhere far away, the smell of homemade bandages peeling off his oozing red stomach, something foul tasting, a sense of comfort yet still everything was tinged with panic and fear everywhere. Fear of Drin, fear of Arthur, fear he'd never be able to go home, _fear he'd never make it home…_

 _Please not now._

"Are you alright Merlin?" Elyan caught him by the arm as he felt his legs wobble once more, steadying him. The knight tried to catch Merlin's eye, a deep-set frown on his face and worry in his eyes. "You don't have to do this, if you're not ready. People will understand." He uttered softly, his approach as if he was talking to a startled animal.

 _He'd been doing so well._

"I'm fine." Merlin nodded shakily, to which the caring knight simply glared at him, assuring him in a look that he wasn't. "I am." He reiterated, more forcefully this time, though not as to be unkind to Elyan. "Is that Petch?" He tried to sound as unconcerned as possible, brushing of his internal screaming panic as an everyday question. "What's he doing here?"

"Just visiting, perhaps." Elyan answered warily, though he himself didn't sound too convinced. "Do you need a hand getting on your horse?" He broke out of his trance-like wonder at the aging physician as he turned towards Merlin.

A part of Merlin really wanted to reject the offer, to try and climb on the horse himself, but even he knew when to relent, this being one of those times. He nodded in thanks to Elyan who gave him a short boost up, and Merlin swung his leg over, feeling a little more relieved now he was actually back on the horse, quite literally. His scars were still fresh and somewhat tender, but he was glad they weren't troubling him too much as assumed a comfortable position, hoping the riding wouldn't aggravate them.

Arthur had popped up next to him as he leapt aboard his own horse. He began chatting to Merlin about everything that they used to, from how nice it was with the sun out to how much of a trek it was down to the lower villages. It was beginning to feel like it had done before, back when things had been really, really good. Merlin would hold his tongue about Petch until they returned to Camelot, at which point he'd interrogate Arthur about it.

The ride to the lower villages took slightly longer than it normally would've done, and Merlin suspected that this was due to them riding at a slower pace, because of him. He was thankful for it though; his muscles were killing him by the time they arrived at one of the villages. It was obvious _something_ had been through some of the farms, there was a very clear imprint of a footprint, or something resembling one, in a patch of crops. There was also a family trying to rethatch one of their rooves, as a large chunk of it was missing.

* * *

Merlin wasn't quite sure how they'd ended up in this position.

They'd followed the creature, some kind of large bird similar to a Rocbut smaller. Gaius had once shown him one of the creatures in his book of wonders about the Old Religion. They'd followed the trail of footprints the thing had imprinted upon rows of fields until it led them to it, raking through a field looking for something. They'd chased it, or possibly it had chased them, to a rock face and trapped it between them and it, or so they'd thought. Whilst they were stood around questioning how best to deal with it, it'd sprung out at them and flown up across the cliff top, catching Elyan as it moved. It was sheer luck the bird hadn't picked him up, merely caught him with a talon which left a scratch along his torso. In the bird's panic, it'd knocked large rocks loose, which had come tumbling down in front of them, again by dumb luck none of them were caught under one.

Merlin, Arthur and the knights now found themselves pinned behind the rocks, lest it take another swipe at them. The creature moved closer to them, it's beady eyes peering out for any sign of prey or predators, and let out a high-pitched shriek that sent shockwaves running through the ground.

"Merlin, can't you… I don't know… zap it to death?" Arthur called across, covering his face as more of the rock face came tumbling down, the creature letting out angry screeches and clinging to the edge of the face. Merlin really should tell him one of these days about his feats, they'd never properly discussed his actual magic ability in depth before. However, Arthur imagined in was slightly more complex then 'zapping' something.

"Well you see, about that…" Merlin began sheepishly, being interrupted by yet another shriek and more pieces of rubble coming at him. There had to be another way of dealing with this, something that didn't require him using his magic, but right now he was racking his brain and couldn't think of anything.

"Come on Merlin," Arthur laughed nervously, "we're in danger, you can fix it, it's not a problem." He cast a glance over to Merlin, who was leaning into his boulder, muscles tense and a panicked expression on his face.

"I can't." Merlin reiterated a little louder this time, grimacing. His frame was still tensed up against his rocky shield, and he was shaken once more as another loud call rang out.

"Merlin, I told you-" The king started, trying to catch Merlin's eye. He had no problems with him using magic in front of him, especially if it was to save to them. He encouraged it, in fact, and Merlin had no reason to fear any repercussions of whatever he had to do.

"Oh, just tell him!" Gwaine growled from behind his shelter, cutting Arthur off and growing impatient of the conversation. This is exactly the sort of situation he thought would be hindered by Merlin's omission about his current condition, and now they were all in danger.

"Tell me what?" Arthur's voice hitched slightly, a mix of worry and anger catching it. He could feel a knot in his stomach starting to tighten, it was becoming more and more of a regular occurrence with Merlin around.

"Gwaine…" Merlin warned, his voice threatening and low. He did not want to be outed, not again. Why was he never in control of these situations? Why could he never sit down and calmly explain what was going on in his life, instead of having it ripped from him under dire circumstances? The little voice in his head was cooing 'I told you so' though, there'd been plenty of situations he could've sat down with Arthur and told him the truth, he'd just been far too ashamed.

"Either you do or I-" Gwaine called out, deadly serious, as he dodged more rubble flying at his face, most landing in a clump in his hair. Merlin didn't let him finish, couldn't let him finish. He'd say the words out loud this time, not mumble apologies like before. He would be a coward no longer.

"I can't do magic!" Merlin cried out. It was as if the world was listening in to him, everything around them going silent for a minute. "Not properly, not since we got back to Camelot." He breathed. The words felt heavy in his mouth as he forced them out, something he had only uttered aloud once, and that was in the quiet comfort of Gwen and her everlasting understanding. Everyone was listening to him and he had no control over how they judged him now. _Weak and pathetic._ His inner voice, which was becoming more and more indistinguishable from himself and Drin every day, taunted at him. "Happy now?" He hollered across pointedly to Gwaine, catching the attention of bird who floated off the rock face and landed on the ground with a thud. Gwaine's expression was unreadable to Merlin; bitter, worried, apologetic maybe – but the furthest thing from happy.

"And you think now was the best time to tell me? _Now_?!" Arthur hissed, turning to face a shaken-looking Merlin. No magic? That, as well as the trauma, had been the root of everything? The lack of recovery, the distant gaze, the panic? Arthur had no idea how crushing this truly had been for Merlin, but he could not conceive why he'd hidden this from them. The sooner they knew the sooner they could've… helped? Even if they weren't the ones to fix the problem, they could've supported Merlin through this, instead of him battling on alone as he had done his whole life.

"I was working on telling you!" He lamely replied, covering his eyes from yet more crumbling rock flying towards him. _Liar_.He hadn't been building up to anything, he'd just been sticking his head in the sand and hoping everyone would go away if he just wished hard enough. Wishing never worked though.

"Then why the hell didn't you?" He hadn't meant to lay it on so thick, but he was mad. Mad at Merlin, mad at the secrets, mad at the situation. Merlin didn't have the one protection Arthur thought he had, he'd literally just take an unarmed, unstable man out with him against a creature which seemed to want to carry them off for breakfast. So above all, Arthur was mad at himself.

"I didn't want to worry you!" The sudden outburst from the warlock took Arthur aback a little. He hadn't seen Merlin have that much emotion for a long time it seemed. Merlin stood there, taking a breath and gripping onto his boulder to support him. It wasn't dizziness or panic this time, more the sheer toll this was taking on him mentally. He wasn't up for this. He hadn't been ready.

"Didn't want to worry me? Merlin, you are unbelievable!" Arthur was beginning to fume, tapping his foot as replacement to pacing, often his go-to when he needed to think, hoping he was quiet enough for the bird to not notice them. However, an angry shriek and a foot crushing Leon and a wounded Elyan's hide told him otherwise.

In a moment of what would either prove to be genius or idiocy, Percival rose from his cover, what little could hide a man of his stature, and raised his arm and sword aloft, the blade glinting in the setting sun. With a cry, like a Spartan, his sword was soaring through the air towards the creature. Time seemed to stand still, everyone silently watching the blade fly towards its target, if only for an agonising moment before it found its mark – the winged beast's chest. It let out a final ear-piercing screech, it's wings flapping desperately to keep itself lingering in the air as red spilt down from the offending weapon caught in its torso. With a final gasping breath, it crashed to the ground.

There was silence amongst the group for a moment, the lack of noise eerie after such a calamity. Percival warily ventured over to the beast, checking if it was in fact dead. He peered over the face of it, with total disregard that it could well leap up at any moment devour him. But it's eyes remained shut, it's beak ajar with no breath emerging and the slow stream of crimson along its downy breast drying. With some effort, Percival retrieved his sword, an unpleasant squelch echoing through the rock face.

"I'm sorry I had to do that." He murmured, inaudible to everyone else. He hadn't wanted to kill the creature, he disliked killing in most scenarios, especially with something that hadn't caused too much harm. There wasn't another choice though, they were lucky Elyan had escaped with only a scratch, and the rest of them uninjured, it really had been in self-defence. It didn't make him feel much better though. "It's dead. We can go." Percival gestured for everyone to stand up from where they'd been sheltering, swooping a large arm around Elyan to support him as he clutched at stomach.

"Merlin." As they began to walk back to where they'd tethered the horses, Arthur turned to the warlock, whose eyes were firmly glued to ground. "I can't believe you. Do you know how much I have deliberated taking you out with us? I was worried something was going to happen to you again, Gaius practically banned you from coming and I had to all but order him to let you out, and do you know why?" He paused just long enough so Merlin finally looked up to meet his disappointed gaze. "Because the little voice in my head reminded me you have magic, and for once I actually listened to it! I thought you'd be able to protect yourself. But little did _I_ know; you've got no magic anymore!" Arthur's rant carried through the air, making Merlin feel even worse than he did already, but he'd needed to hear it. "And of course, _Gwaine_ knew all about it." He huffed, and before Merlin could answer back to him, he'd ridden on ahead, leaving nothing but his childish whine behind.

* * *

 **Finally, the secret is out.**

 **Hope you enjoyed that and were able to follow along okay. I do appreciate there is a lot going on this chapter.**


	13. Of Trouble and Tragedy

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Super long delay on this, simply because there were so many scenes that needed writing and tying together. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"And once again, Gwaine knew before I did!" Arthur concluded his tirade by throwing his hands up in the air.

"Arthur, this is childish." Merlin stood, leaning against the table in Arthur's room, with his arms folded against his chest, taking umbrage at Arthur's attempt to chastise him like a child. They'd been here since they returned to Camelot, a good half an hour or so. Arthur had angrily thrown himself off his horse, then demanded Merlin follow him as they headed inside. As much as Merlin had wanted to stay with Elyan and help him to Gaius', to make sure he wasn't too badly hurt, the king was not in a mood to be answered back to.

"Is it really?" Arthur peered at him, narrowing his eyes at the warlock; his tone all but proving Merlin's point.

"Yes!" Merlin rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. "Gwaine has a knack for finding things out he ought not to know. Neither time have I told him before you." It wasn't even a lie. He had never told Gwaine either of his secrets, but the sneaky rogue was very good at figuring things out. He was definitely smarter than anyone gave him credit for. "Trust me." He implored, hoping the King would finally see sense.

"Trust you, Merlin?" Arthur scoffed. "All you do is lie to me." The phrase was spat with much more venom than intended, and immediately he began to regret his choice of words, the heat rising to face as a chill ran down the warlock's back. There was just that lingering hurt, the emptiness Arthur felt inside that Merlin had never felt able to confide in him about his magic, and now this new revelation had brought all those feelings bubbling back up to the surface.

"Alright, all I do is lie to you." Merlin bit back, with equally as much spite. Those words had hurt, those words sounded like tower Arthur; the man who'd cut him deep with his lack of understanding, not Camelot Arthur; the man who'd patiently sat with him while he poured his heart out on a cold corridor floor. The guilty pangs in his chest he'd been feeling all day for lying to everyone were starting to mix with the hurt and anger he felt from Arthur's words. _This wouldn't be happening if you'd just told him, coward_. The not so small voice in his head was still taunting him. "I wonder why that is." He let out a small, humourless laugh, throwing his arms up to mimic Arthur's actions.

"Merlin, come on." Arthur started, reaching out for the warlock's shoulder, hoping to reconcile as quickly as possible. Enough time had been spent in their relationship stewing over harsh words and regrettable decisions. "You know I didn't-"

"Forget it, Arthur." Merlin held a hand up to silence him. "Think about your own feelings first, like you always do." He shrugged away from the king, and pushed past him. His head was beginning to feel fuzzy again, and the ground once more started to shift from under his feet. "I can't… I can't do this anymore." Merlin kept his sight focussed on the heavy wooden door on the other side of the room, determined to get out of the closing in room as quickly as he could.

"Merlin…!" Arthur called after him, but he'd already slammed the door shut in his face. Anyone else would be arrested for treason for doing that. With a sigh, Arthur opened the door, expecting there to be an angered warlock on the other side. However, he was greeted with nothing but an empty corridor, and the very distant sound of footsteps.

* * *

Half an hour later, and Arthur was getting worried. He'd traipsed all over the castle looking for Merlin, hoping he could apologise, and maybe finally have one more 'cards on the table' chat, this time with absolutely everything that had been going on. The warlock had been nowhere to be found though; not at Gaius', not in the kitchens, not in the armoury, the stables or the council room.

He had bumped into Gwaine, and reluctantly asked him if he could find Percival and Leon, now getting somewhat perplexed as to where Merlin could be. He had even enquired from the guard at the gates if anyone had been in or out, to which luckily no one had. The last thing he needed to worry about was Merlin leaving Camelot after the way things had ended, especially now he knew he didn't have the same defences as before.

Arthur, Gwaine, Percival and Leon met up in the corridor leading to the kitchens, an innocuous space away from gossiping maids and intrigued guards. Arthur really didn't want the rumour that they were hunting for Merlin to spread around the castle, especially as he'd probably turn up sooner or later.

"Percival," Arthur greeted the tall knight with a nod as he walked up to them, "have you seen Elyan? Is he alright?" He hadn't asked him to join them as he'd immediately been ferried off to Gaius, having received the nasty injury from their bird-like foe earlier in the day.

"I've just been down to see him," Percival smiled, "Gaius has checked over his injury."

"And?"

"Luckily it was only a scratch and didn't run very deep. He's cleaned and bandaged it, and El's back in his quarters now." There was a sigh of relief amongst the men, none wanting yet another situation where one of them was gravely ill and close to death. Elyan's wound was relatively minor, but he'd still be out of action for a little while.

"Good, good. I'll leave him be to recover." Arthur paused for a moment, weighing how best to phrase the conversation next. "The rest of you, I need your help… Merlin's run off, and I can't find him anywhere."

"He's run off?" Leon was taken aback. "What do you mean 'run off'? He's not a child." The knight crossed his arms, a deep frown on his face.

"We…" Arthur sighed, "we had words." Why did he have to say that to Merlin? Of course, they both knew it was true, but it hadn't needed saying. It'd been to hurt Merlin in that moment, because of course, Arthur hadn't already hurt him enough with words. Why was he always this tactless? When did it become so difficult just to _talk_ to Merlin? They used to be so close, and now… now he didn't know where they were anymore.

"About?" Gwaine narrowed his eyes at the king, though there one only one reasonable answer after the fiasco that was this morning's patrol. He still felt awful about the situation he'd stirred up, but then again, maybe it'd been the push Merlin needed. He needed to learn to be open with them, not to be afraid anymore and to tell them what was wrong. He couldn't understand his mantra of never telling anyone anything.

"What do you think, Gwaine?" Arthur grimaced, stone-faced. "About his magic, about his lies, about the fact that _you_ knew before me, again." Gods he was childish, but that fact still irked him so very much. He was supposed to be Merlin's confidant, not Gwaine, and yet, the rogue knight always seemed to be two steps ahead of him when it came to Merlin.

"He never told me Arthur, I overheard him telling Gwen!" Gwaine yelled in frustration, also feeling rather guilty that he'd pushed Merlin to this. He only ever had his best interests at heart though, wanting to make sure everyone knew how fragile he was, was he so wrong for wanting to protect Merlin when he clearly couldn't protect himself?

"Gwen?" Arthur paused, somewhat stunned. "He told Gwen? Why would he do that?"

"Because he was alone." Everyone turned to look at the maid, angrily clutching at a pile of sheets. "You need to find better places to have your 'secret' conversations." Perhaps the corridor maybe hadn't been as private a place as Arthur had thought. "I found Merlin alone and confused in this corridor. He thought he was back with that man, Drin, and was mad with fear. I helped him back to Gaius' where he told me everything."

"Why?"

"Do you have any idea how alone he felt? Not just for those weeks since he came back, but his entire time in Camelot?" Gwen chided, unsure of how Arthur could be so oblivious sometimes. In reality, she was mad at herself, for now she could see, really see, when Merlin's smile didn't reach his eyes, or when a laugh was just a little too forced. How many times had she missed it? How many times had he willed someone to reach out and notice how alone he truly was?

"Gwen," Arthur started, unsure of the right words, "I know, things with Merlin aren't fine, they haven't been fine in a long time as much as he pretends, and I see that now, I see that he's putting up walls and shutting me out. I just can't find a way through to him, no matter how hard I try. I just want my friend back." He bit back the emotion welling in his eyes. Kings didn't cry over servants. It was that rhetoric that seemed to have caused this mess, the fact that neither were supposed to be open with each other, and it had pushed them further and further apart. "I want my friend back." He reiterated with a sad nod. "Let's go find Merlin."

* * *

Percival had an idea, he just hoped to God he was wrong. There was an old lookout tower down in the west side of the castle, it hadn't been used for years, many before Percival was ever knighted, and it was the one place no one would think to look. He turned the corner, approaching the staircase leading up to it, and his heart sank to see fresh footprints taking chunks out of the inches of dust that usually coated them.

As softly as a man his size could, he crept up the many steps, following the steps taken in front of him. Eventually he was greeted by the chill of the open-built windows, and the dusky light of early eve, his eyes accustomed to the harsh torchlight throughout Camelot's corridors. He also was thankful there was the frame of a manservant sat in one of the windows, his head lazily lolled against a shoulder. It had been a constant thought whilst following those footsteps that he'd be too late, he'd arrive to an empty room and screams from below.

"Merlin mate, are you alright?" Percival called over to him, approaching him as if he were a frightened deer. "What are you doing up here?"

"I'm just getting some air, it's- it's quiet up here." Merlin sighed, taking one last look at the sereneness of Camelot in the early evening. Everyone had packed up their stalls and wares for the day, there was little of the hustle and bustle of the day, and the raucousness had not yet begun in the taverns. He suddenly turned to look at Percival with a questioning look. "Why? What did you think…?" Merlin blanched, the answer suddenly hitting him like a lightning bolt. "You thought I'd come up here to…?" He couldn't even finish the thought.

"See it from our view, eh?" He joined Merlin, squeezing himself into the unaccommodating space of the windowsill, an uneasy task for him. "You went up here all on your own, and you haven't been the most… _engaged_ person in the last few weeks. We were just worried, that's all." He had to admit, he could see why Merlin liked this spot. You could see right to the edge of Camelot from up there, and down to the haze of the horizon where Essetir lay beyond. Merlin's home. He came up here to look at home. Percival thought his heart broke for the warlock, just a bit.

"I'm fine, Percival. I'm not going to throw myself from the tower. See how peaceful it is?" The silence that hung in the air was very pleasant, a welcome stillness difficult to achieve anywhere else. "I just don't understand how Arthur doesn't get it by now. You'd think, just once, he'd engage his tiny brain before opening his stupid mouth." Merlin grumbled, comfortingly pulling his knees up to his chest.

"He said you'd had words."

"He was right, though. Of course he was. He told me all I do is lie to him, and it's true. I can't be honest with him, I can't tell him what's going on in my life because I'm supposed to be the strong one, the hidden power in Arthur's destiny," he let out a harsh laugh, "and now, frankly, what use am I to him? I can't protect him without my magic. I'm so weak." He buried his head in his hands. "I once told Gaius that without magic I may as well die, and it's true, isn't it? I have nothing anymore."

Percival reached out and placed a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder for a brief moment, before letting out a soft sigh, and began pensively fiddling with his hands.

"When I was younger, I broke my leg. It was bad, the physician wasn't sure I'd ever walk again and even considered cutting it off at one point." Merlin looked up, casting him a empathetic but quizzical look. "I couldn't move for weeks; I was miserable and alone in my home and I felt defeated. Even more so after… what happened." He shook his head, and bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable at the memory. "My best friend, he went out into the town one night, as we'd do on occasion. Except he was by himself, I was laid up still. He got into a fight at the tavern and never came home. I blamed myself for his death, I still do, really. If I hadn't been invalided I could've been with him, could've defended him or even stopped the fight all together." In that moment, Merlin had never seen so much emotion on Percival's features. "My point is I too know what it is to live without strength, to have it taken away from you and know the feel of failure. But do you know where your real strength comes from, Merlin? Inside your head." He tapped on his skull to make a point. "You held out from speaking to Drin when he had control over your magic, even and especially when you thought Arthur hated you. That takes a mental strength few possess. That's your strength; it didn't come from magic or power, it came from loyalty and bravery and goodness. And even if you never get your magic back, you'll always be strong. You are not weak, and you never, ever will be. Believe me Merlin."

The warlock had no words to respond to such a moving speech by his friend, all he could summon was a soft nod of acceptance as his lips began to tremble slightly. He'd not heard such kindness in quite a while, and it took a lot for him to accept the words as genuine, but Percival's words had moved him more than anything.

"Thanks." He offered weakly, and let out another short laugh, this one much lighter and full of relief and happiness.

"Now, not to worry you, but Arthur literally has all of Camelot's finest, except Elyan, who's fine," Percival clarified rather quickly before he began to worry, "scouring the castle for you, so maybe we should head back?" He nodded towards the staircase, wanting to leave his room as quickly as possible, but also as the last of the light was disappearing, and the stairs weren't lit with torches like the rest of castle. He had a feeling he could break the other leg descending those monsters in darkness.

"Arthur has people looking for me?" Merlin sounded surprised, but not shocked. He had left rather abruptly, and after quite harsh words spoken. Arthur would want to find him as soon as possible, if only to clear his own conscious.

"Why wouldn't he? I know he's a pillock," Percival almost clapped his hand over his mouth once the word had escaped, "never ever tell him I said that," he pointed a warning finger at Merlin with a cheeky smile, which Merlin returned, holding his hands up innocently, "but you do need to give him some credit for how he cares for you."

"I know." Merlin's smile dropped, a sad sigh on his lips. "I don't blame Arthur for how he is, or how I am." He looked out once more at his makeshift home, and his true home miles beyond it's walls. How simple life had been when there had just been one rather than the other. "I just hate it." He growled in frustration, yelling out into the dead evening.

"Of course you do. But sitting up here achieves nothing. Let's go mate, eh?" Percival unsqueezed himself from the window frame, and gestured for Merlin to do the same, before letting him begin to decline the staircase, following closely behind as he made sure the warlock really was alright. He might even ask Arthur to board up these stairs, in the name of safety, of course. They were a bloody death trap.

Gwaine was pacing up and down one of the west corridors when they finally made it back down to ground level. As soon as he spotted the raven-haired servant Gwaine immediately made towards him, only to skid on his heels and slow down as he approached Merlin, not wanting to make it seem like a big deal.

"Alright?" Gwaine asked nonchalantly, giving Merlin an affirming nod.

"Yeah, fine, thanks. I'm going to go find Arthur, I hear he's been looking for me."

"Could say that." Gwaine clenched his jaw to prevent himself from saying anymore. "Could very definitely say that."

"…Right. I'm gonna go..." Merlin awkwardly gestured down the corridor.

"…go find Arthur." Gwaine finished for him, an unnerving grin on his face which dropped as soon as Merlin's back was turned. "What in god's name was he doing up there?" He hissed, glaring up at Percival, the pair following Merlin at a reasonable distance, so as not to look like he was so obviously following him.

"Don't panic," Percival leaned in towards Gwaine, his voice in a low whisper, "he just likes the view." Shrugging, he carried on at a pace behind Merlin, whilst Gwaine had stopped dead in tracks.

"Seriously?" The knight held a look of immense relief, but also the residue of the worry and anger he'd felt at Merlin for just up and disappearing like that. It wasn't that Gwaine thought he should be babied or constantly monitored, but running off when he was fragile and emotional, and possibly unwell, and with Drin returning, all sorts of thoughts had crossed his mind. He imagined this was the anger parents felt when their child returned after wandering off, immediate fury followed by overwhelming relief and happiness.

"Yeah, he kind of freaked out when I mentioned I thought he might jump. I think he's okay." Percivla looked back at Gwaine, who was still stood quietly. "He's fine Gwaine, come on." He mouthed silently, nodding in the direction of the disappearing warlock.

Gwaine looked unconvinced but said nothing, instead catching up with Merlin and wrapping a playful arm around his shoulders, whistling a content tune as the three headed back.

* * *

"Sire," Leon entered the dining room and greeted the king with his customary respectful bow, "I have just spoken to Percival. He found Merlin and he's fine. He told me they were going to Gwaine's room to play cards this evening."

"Cards? I hope he's aware of how devilishly Gwaine plays cards." Arthur laughed, having been on the nasty receiving end of Gwaine ruthlessness when it came to gambling. After quite the argument about whether Gwaine should yield to his majesty's authority, or be seen as a generous leader who keeps a gentleman's word and pays his losses, Arthur had agreed to pay the knight's tavern bill for the week. He was still trying to explain that one to the treasury. "I'll leave them for tonight, probably best to put some distance between us, then we'll talk tomorrow."

"Best idea sire." Leon nodded thoughtfully. "I'll head off, if there's nothing else?"

"No, that's it Leon, thank you." Arthur smiled, and watched Leon leave the dining room, sitting himself down and hoping Cook had made something remarkable to counteract the hellish day he'd had.

"Arthur?" There was soft knocking at the door and Petch slipped through, greeting the tired king with a warm smile.

"Petch," Arthur held out his hands, "I can only apologise for my lack of hospitality, especially as you've come such a long way." He sighed sadly, regretful they'd not spent more time together since he'd arrived. He would be eternally grateful to the elderly healer, there was no way they could've staved off Merlin's infection on their own, or properly cared for him. He owed Merlin's life to Petch, a debt that could never truly be repaid.

"I understand Arthur, you have a kingdom to run. Camelot certainly overshadows Redferran. I am afraid I need to ride back this evening, I know I said I would stay the night, but I worry about the village when I'm not there, I hope you understand."

"You're their physician, they rely on you, if you feel you need to return tonight then of course, that's fine. Would you like to join me for dinner first?"

"Oh Arthur, that's too much," Petch tutted, clearly overwhelmed by the king's kindness during the day, "surely you've much more esteemed gentleman to be feeding?" It seemed what he'd heard of the Pendragons, at least Arthur, hadn't been all true, not if this was how they treated a humble villager like himself.

"Nonsense, you are here as my guest, and I can't let you leave until I know you will not be fainting from hunger on your journey home. An hour's delay, at most. It's still early, there'll be light for hours yet." Arthur lead him to a seat, and let him wearily sit down.

"If you insist, sire." In one moment Petch had managed to capture the impertinence and grin of Merlin perfectly. "Once we've eaten, I need to organise my things, but first I'd like to speak with Gaius some more, and hopefully see Merlin before I leave. See how he's doing, not that I doubt Gaius has taken the very best care of him."

"Of course." Arthur called for a guard to bring him double of whatever Cook had made for dinner, and as soon as possible. The guard had narrowed his eyes a little, just enough so as not to be impertinent, but taking food orders really did not fall under his job remit. He silently left the pair, closing the door with a quiet thud. "You haven't spoken to Merlin today?"

"No, we seem to keep missing one another. But once a patient of mine, always a patient of mine, you see."

There were too many similarities between this man and Gaius for them not to have been separated at birth, Arthur thought.

* * *

"Arthur, this food is divine. Whoever is your cook, she certainly knows what she's doing." Petch laughed, as he pushed a now empty, almost spotless, plate away from him.

"I shall be sure to have Merlin let her know." Arthur chuckled. He was not going to face Cook. He didn't care he was the king, that she worked directly for him, that she'd been around since he was a small child. When she was around, Arthur still felt like a small child. No, she scared Arthur.

"My lord, I have urgent-" The door swung open with a crash and tired-looking guard stumbled through. He regained his composure, standing upright and straightening himself up. He was about to relay whatever message seemed so important, until he noticed Petch also sat at the king's table, and began to glare at the poor man, clearly willing him to leave. "Urgent news. Perhaps we should be alone." Another pointed stare at Petch.

"It's fine, like I said, Petch is a friend of Camelot and completely trustworthy." At this the guard softened somewhat, casting his eyes to the king rather than a slightly worried elderly physician. "Now, what's the matter?" Arthur pushed the remainder of his lunch away from him, and quirked a small smile as he saw Petch eyeing his leftovers out of the corner of his eye.

"There's been reports of attacks of villages not far from the border." The guard stated matter-of-factly. "The scouts haven't reported an attack on Camelot yet, but they seem to be moving closer, and I suggest we be vigilant." Even that made his demeanour slip, just a tad, but the reports had been enough to worry him, that was clear.

"Attacks? By whom?" At this Arthur stood, a bad feeling sinking into his gut. It couldn't be Drin, please don't let it be Drin. He hadn't had time to start coming up with even a basic strategy, and did not want to be forced his hand because the old despot was advancing.

"We're not sure, the bandits have been attacking villages across the lowlands and even some as far away as Essetir. We don't know what they're after," the guard paused for a moment, either for dramatic tension or simply because he wasn't sure, "if not pure destruction." He concluded with a regrettable sigh.

"Did you say lowlands?" Arthur's suspicions were closer to being confirmed, something that made him feel physically sick. "They're mostly self-governing small villages, who'd take an interest them?"

"I am unsure, sire, but they've wiped out Hossen, Westfirth, and Redferran."

* * *

 **I hope to have this updated beforehand, but if not a very merry Christmas (or applicable seasonal celebration) and a happy new year to all of you beautiful people.**


	14. NOT A CHAPTER (BUT I'M COMING BACK)

So... long time no see.

Where have I been? Life, I guess.

I was planning to write tons over Christmas break, but I got really behind with my college projects which led me to get quite depressed and disconnected from everything. Then everything snowballed with work and commitments and I haven't even looked at any piece of writing in over six months.

However I've graduated now, and have quite a bit of free time on my hands, so the first task is finishing OMAK. I have no idea what my schedule is going to be like or if I'll even have one, but I'm not breaking my promise to never abandon a fic.

See you soon,

Jae


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